By David Hearne
ottercrk@sover.net
 

Date: Tue, 29 Feb 2000

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PART NINE

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"For the novelist knowledge is not subdivided into
rigid compartments, and there are no 'taboos,' no
disreputable subjects. History is not for him something
frozen, something petrified into periods, each of
which can be isolated and subjected to a controlled
laboratory experiment. On the contrary it is for him a
fluid organic and dynamic process wherein psychology,
sociology, politics, art, and tradition are interwoven in
a single seamless fabric."

                            -- excerpt from "Holy Blood, Holy Grail"

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ORMUS

When I think about Mulder and Scully, I remember the lovers I've had.
Despite my...considerable life span, I have only had three. The first was
Mary, of course. The second was Emma and the final one Jean.

Of the three, my memories of Mary are the faintest. This isn't just because
our marriage occurred so long ago. It's because I never really *saw* her. I
never really considered her as anything beyond a means of bringing together
the House of David with the House of Benjamin. That's not to say I didn't
like her. I respected her integrity and strength. Besides, making love to
her was more than just my duty to the cause. It was a distinct pleasure.

However, when I think about it, I would say that Mary was my second lover,
not my first. My first love was Jerusalem. The fight for its independence
was my true romance, one that blinded me to seeing Mary as a person. To put
it simply, I was an efficient husband for her, but not as loving as I could
have been.

Jude deserved her more.

After I went into the underground, I promised myself never to marry or even
have an affair. Instead, I devoted myself wholly to my new cause. I
concentrated on arranging the marriages and affairs of other people -- the
ones whose unions would serve my purpose.

Then, with the twentieth century almost upon me, I threw away my cause. I
had seen what was coming. Other eras had seen their share of madness and
evil, but I knew that the years from 1900 to 2000 would be unique in their
scope. There were too many fools and lunatics rising to power. Science was
providing them with louder and sharper toys to play with. I had enough. I
discontinued my efforts to intercede in politics, only making an appearance
when some matter with the Warriors and Healers absolutely needed my
attention.

Instead, I concentrated on my own amusements. In 1885, my current occupation
was priest. I had myself 'transferred' by the Vatican to a small French
village, allegedly as a punishment for some unorthodox ideas on my part. I
brought with me the secret horde of wealth I had accumulated over the
centuries. I then proceeded to have an unusually opulent life for a priest,
hosting large banquets for the villagers and adding expensive decorations to
my church. If anyone at the Vatican became suspicious of my lifestyle, a
little pressure through my hidden channels of power would squeeze out his
suspicions.

Occasionally, I made a trip to Paris. It was there that I met Emma Calve --
sweet, lovely, wonderful, flaky Emma. If Constantine was the best politician
I've ever met, then Emma Calve was the best actress, even though her
official occupation was singer. For Emma, her entire life was an act. She
wanted the audience to watch her off-stage as avidly as when she was playing
Pamina or Madame Butterfly on-stage. That meant keeping odd company.
Getting to know her was getting to know occultists, destitute artists,
struggling poets, florid musicians and basic lunatics. No politicians of any
kind, though. "Whether they be mayor, duke or king," she said. "politicians
are always the worst bores in the world. They want to blow out the fire of
life with a breath chilled by rules and responsibilities."

It was with her that I found my refuge. Or I thought I did. With her, I
plunged myself into a life of continuous sensation meant to block out the
rest of the world. As anger grew against the Czars in Russia, I clasped
hands at seances.  When an army officer in France was being imprisoned for a
crime he did not commit, I admired paintings invoking an idyllic medieval
past that never existed. While the people of one country were listening to
their emperor declare "our God would not have taken such pains with our
German fatherland and people, if He did not have still greater things in
store for us," I was relaxing on silk cushions and listening only to
Debussy.

Eventually, time came for me to move on. I staged my death and took on a new
life as well a new lover. Jean Cocteau was as desperate as Emma was
carefree. He was an artist and a poet and a filmmaker for the same reason
that he was a drug addict; he longed for an escape from the world that
abused his sensitivities. I was in the same mood when I met him. With Emma,
I could simply ignore the impeding downfall of nations. By the time of the
1940's, however, too many men were found dangling from barbed wire and too
many children had been heated into dust. Art was still a refuge, but it was
like a cabin in the middle of a howling storm. The wind was too loud and the
walls threatened to crash in on our heads.

As I've said before, I once staged my own defense against this storm with
art itself. During the sixties, I played a quiet role in making sure certain
music, books or movies were created. At the time, I was honestly convinced
that the world could be changed by an album made by four men dressed up in
colorful band-leader's uniforms or by a movie about an obelisk floating
around Saturn or by a book concerning a man whose ejaculations could predict
bomb attacks.

Yes...well...

It was the last time that I was ever so optimistic. The popular culture I
helped create became its own rigidly-controlled nation. Commerce could
subdue any idea and make it a servant. Even dreams of the apocalypse have
become the fodder for paperback thrillers and movies starring armed
musclemen.

When I met Mulder and Scully, I was a disappointed lover. Watching them gave
me an explanation for my disappointment; I never really asked what I could
do for my companions. Whether it was Mary or Emma or Jean or the world
itself, I never asked myself what did the other really need. It was always
about what I could take from them or what I wanted them to do.

Mulder and Scully, on the other hand, were always sharply aware of the
other. Every time they turned around, they seem to expect to see their
partner with them. A glance between them could communicate volumes of
information and the smallest touch could provide comfort.

Were they lovers in the physical sense? I don't know, and I don't think it's
relevant. There have been married couples who weren't as intimate as the two
of them were. Furthermore, it wasn't a love that shut out the world. It was
the continuous presence of the world's dark side in their lives which had
drawn them together. It was a friendship that I deeply respected and wished
that I had achieved in my own life.

I also wished that I wouldn't end up getting them killed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

SCULLY

It was on the plane trip to Rome that the man who called himself Delmore
Schwartz told us everything. Or everything he thought we should know.

The plane was a sleek, privately-owned model. Instead of the usual bland
airplane food, Mulder and I had ourselves a very tasty dish of shrimp and
chicken. Schwartz sat with us at an oak table, having dinner as well.
Outside the window, stars were held in a dark sky and the engine hummed.

When I think of Schwartz, I remember his sad eyes. He had the look of a man
who had been exhausted by effort, yet couldn't find a way out of his
responsibilities.

"So," he said as he carved off a piece of chicken. "I gather you know a few
things about my organization already."

Mulder stopped in the middle of sipping his wine and looked at Schwartz.
"Yeah. I do." He looked around at the plane and down at the fine meal. "Is
this going to end up with me strapped to a table with a laser beam headed
for my family jewels?"

Schwartz gave Mulder a kind smile. "My organization is nothing out of a
James Bond movie, Agent Mulder, though we have members who like to think
so."

"But you do have one of the world's best-hidden secrets, don't you?"

"And which secret is that?"

"The one about the blood dynasty of Jesus Christ."

"Well, it's not that well-hidden. I mean, if that silly little book can
expose it..."

"But is it true?"

Schwartz placed a morsel of chicken into his mouth. He chewed on it as his
eyes passed from Mulder to myself. His eyes seemed to linger on the crucifix
dangling from my neck.

"Do you believe this is true?" he asked me.

"I would have to see some concrete proof. 'Holy Blood, Holy Grail' offered
nothing in that area."

Schwartz nodded. "And what if I were to tell you that there is no real
proof?"

"That's bullshit," Mulder said in a firm voice. "How else do you explain
your organization's existence?"

"Just because my people believe in a blood dynasty of Christ doesn't mean
that such a thing is a reality. Yes, we have little bits of information --
things that might indicate the bloodline's validity. In the end, however, my
organization has faith and not much more."

"You mean, you would go through all this trouble just on faith alone?"

"Agent Mulder, I've done some checking on you. From what I have seen, I
think you of all people should understand just how far a person can go on
mere faith."

That hit Mulder in his metaphorical gut. He pressed his lips together,
unable to raise a counter-argument. Schwartz looked back at him with
something close to a smile as he carved off another piece of chicken.

I stepped in at this point. "But the fact remains that your organization
does exist," I pointed out. "And it's obviously powerful and well-financed."

"Hm," Schwartz commented as he ate the sliced white meat.

"So, just what is your group about, Mr. Schwartz?"

Schwartz swallowed the meat, laid down his fork and knife and folded his
hands under his chin. He began to speak --

"There are actually two organizations." He grimaced. "Actually, three, it
seems. It's the third that we have to deal with now. The first two came into
existence around..." A frown formed on his mouth. "God, I can't remember
anymore. Let's just say that they are both very, very old. One group is
called Healers. The other are Warriors.

"Healers address themselves to the therapy of mankind. I mean this in the
broadest sense of the word. They tend to both the body and soul. Their
numbers include artists, writers and philosophers as well as physicians and
scientists. They are concerned with the health of the individual as well as
the broader culture. Their plans are based on an utopian vision of the
world. I suppose you could say that they are the dreamers.

"Warriors tend to be much more...realistic. They see the future in terms of
survival not utopianism. Scientists work for them as well, but their
scientists create new means of damaging the flesh, not repairing it. When
the time comes to march onto the battlefield, Warriors are on the front
lines. Sometimes, they protect. Other times, they attack. In either mode,
they never openly declare their own personal allegiance. On the surface,
they serve whatever cause best supports their own aims.

"Healers seek to transcend death. Warriors see it as something to use to
their advantage.

"Now, the divisions are not always so clean-cut. Some Warriors have
displayed a fine artistic temperament. And a lot of Healers are not above
using a gun or a knife. However, there is a difference in philosophy, even
though they both have the same center; that being, of course, the bloodline.
To Healers and Warriors, this family dynasty are the destined rulers of the
world. Throughout the centuries, they have attempted to raise the family
members to be kings and queens. Sometimes, they have succeeded, but chance
and misfortune have worked against the achievement of their final goal of a
world government."

Schwartz turned his face to the black window which reflected his sad eyes
back. "And then there was the difference in their visions. Healers wanted
this government to guide people towards new levels of spiritual
enlightenment. Warriors just wanted order under a benevolent, intelligent
rule -- no more and no less. For the first few centuries, there was a belief
that the ideal kingdom could be made from a union between these two beliefs.
Eventually, however, debates grew into estrangement. A dozen polarizing
incidents accumulated -- some important, some trivial. In the end, the two
sides came to conclude that they could not work together."

He turned back to us. "Are you familiar with an incident called 'The Cutting
of the Elm?'"

"Yes," Mulder said. "It occurred in 1188 at a place in France called 'The
Sacred Field.' A large elm was cut down. Apparently, this incident has an
important symbolism to both the kingdoms of France and England, but..."

He stopped himself and looked at Schwartz. Again, something close to a smile
appeared on Schwartz's face as he waited for Mulder to continue.

"But what?" I asked.

"In 'Holy Blood, Holy Grail,' there's conjecture that the incident had
importance for two groups," Mulder said. "One was called the Prieure de
Sion and the other called the Knights Templar. It was also in 1188 that the
two groups decided to end an allegiance between the other."

"The Prieure was merely one of the many front groups for Healers," Schwartz
told us. "The Knights Templar represented Warriors. The cutting of the elm
was an act performed to symbolize the end of their union." He spread his
hands out. "Officially, they haven't been working together for centuries.
This dissolution also nearly resulted in war on numerous occasions, but that
was averted, thanks to some good luck. Essentially, the agreement was 'You
stay on your side, I'll stay on mine and we'll try not to step on each
other's shoes.'"

"What about the bloodline?" Mulder asked.

"If either side managed to create a world dynasty based on the bloodline,
the agreement would hold. Whoever was in charge would let the other do its
work as long as the opposing side didn't attempt a coup. However, you have
to understand that the bloodline didn't mean quite as much as it used to.
That was one of the reasons why the two sides split up to begin with."

"How so?"

"Undoubtedly, you know about the Merovingian dynasty."

"Well, now that you mention it..."

"The Merovingians were rumored to be the possessors of great healing
abilities. As well as a cross-shaped birthmark on their backs."

"Were the rumors true?"

Schwartz picked up his wine glass and swirled the red liquid slightly.
"Possibly."

"More than possibly. Joel Graham is a descendent of this dynasty, isn't he?"

Schwartz nodded, looking down at his wine.

"The Merovingians really did have these abilities. Maybe not as a result of
being a descendent of Jesus, but they did have some kind of genetic trait
that enabled them to perform...well, miracles."

Mulder gave me a brief look. I have no idea of what my expression was. I was
working on auto-pilot at this point. I needed to hear this story to the end
and not react to it yet. Because at this point, the only suitable reaction
that came to mind would be to swipe all the plates off the table and start
screaming.

Whatever Mulder saw in my face, he was either comforted by it or too
disturbed to look upon it because he turned back to Schwartz. "At some
point, however, the genetic trait must have faded away. Future generations
lost the ability. Centuries later, it would resurface in Joel Graham."

"It's quite an event," Schwartz said in a quiet voice. He sipped at his
wine, then put down his glass. "Important enough to make Healers and
Warriors speak of a new union."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, that is so."

"Obviously, they didn't know about your little secret."

Schwartz leaned back in his chair and folded his hands onto his stomach.
There was a hardness in his expression now. "That is a matter I won't go
into. It is also not...*not* to be mentioned to either Healers or Warriors."
He pointed a finger at us. "You owe me your life, Agent Mulder. And
Scully...you owe me the life of your partner. While I need you at that
moment, be assured that I am very protective of my secret. Is that clear?"

Mulder was silent for many, many seconds.

Then he said, "It's clear as daylight."

I just nodded.

"Good." Schwartz let out a breath. "Because I do need you. Especially Agent
Scully."

"Against the third organization?" Mulder asked.

"Yes." Schwartz lifted his arms above his head and stretched his body.
"Mmmm. Explanations about that can wait for later, though. Right now, I'm
tired. Since I'm probably going to be even more tired before this is all
over, I'm going to take a nap."

He stood up. "Until Rome, then," he told us and walked over to a sofa
located near the cockpit. He laid himself out on it and closed his eyes.

"Scully..." Mulder whispered.

"That sounds like a good idea," I said. "I'm going to take a nap, too." I
wiped off my lips with a napkin and stood up. "Good night, Mulder."

Mulder opened his mouth to speak. I touched his lips with my finger. "Good
night, Mulder," I repeated in a soft voice.

A quick secession of emotions flashed in his eyes. First, he was angry --
this situation damn well needed a little discussion. Then, he was taken back
by my unspoken plea to wait. Finally, he nodded and gave me a look of
understanding. He realized that I needed time to absorb all this. I needed
rest to prepare myself for whatever was to happen in Rome.

I nodded back to him and let my hand linger on his lips for a moment. Then I
went to the back of the plane and found another couch there. I closed my
eyes and gave myself over to dreams less strange than the real world.

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PART TEN

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"History occurs first as a tragedy and then as a comedy."

                                                         -- Karl Marx

"And then as a bad sitcom."

                                -- David Hearne

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MULDER

Scully wonders how is it that I'm so ready to believe in aliens, vampires,
werewolves, mind-readers and conspiracies of all kinds but not in God.

It's not really a question of whether I can accept that some personified
force is in charge of the universe. I can do that. In one way or another,
I've been looking for that force through the X-Files. What I don't believe
is that the Bible reveals the identity of such a force.

It's certainly not clear on motivation. This is supposed to be a loving and
caring God? This is the guy who is supposed to be punishing the wicked? A
god who allows Lot to escape the judgment of Sodom even though he offered
his daughters to a sex-crazed mob? And speaking of Lot's daughters, was it
really all right for them to have sex with their father? Apparently, that
was necessary for propagation for the human race -- a cause which also
excuses the Tribe of Benjamin when they pillage a town for women. That's
okay with Yahweh, but when a bunch of kids make fun of a man's baldness, the
Almighty sends a pack of wolves after them.

I know, I know. History is full of brave and noble people who have learned
their good behavior from Christianity. Hell, I work with one of them. Yet
there's also a long trail of blood running from the Spanish Inquisition
through the Salem Witch Trial to every modern-day lunatic who kills in the
name of scripture. "Religion is only good for good people," Mary McCarthy
said. It seems to be just plain disastrous for bad ones.

Then, again, that's not really Scully's question, is it? She wants to know
why my ability to accept the fantastic doesn't encompass a belief in God.

Maybe I'm afraid to believe.

It's quite possible that the contradictory God of the Bible really is the
king of the cosmos. The world would actually make more sense from that
angle. However, I can't handle that there is this...this *person* watching
me, judging me, deciding my destiny. I get a lot of that in my life already.

All of these thoughts are connected to the Joel Graham case. However, that
little mystery was more than about God. This was about Christ, the man
deemed by one of the world's most prominent religions as being the human
incarnation of the Almighty; the man who performed miracles and preached
forgiveness; the man who died, rose from the dead and ascended into Heaven.
You know, *that* guy.

As a non-believer, it's hard for me to understand why Christ had to die a
virgin. What's wrong with the idea that he might gotten married, got some
nookie and then begat some kids? Of course, "Holy Blood, Holy Grail" went
beyond that. It suggested his death on the cross was faked and Jesus snuck
out of the country. Now, that would definitely shake the world up like a
maraca if it was true.

Unfortunately, Schwartz gave no indication about whether it was true or
false. He kept alluding to "certain documents" and "evidence" that *might*
be damaging to the whole notion of Christ's divinity. However, they were
"inconclusive." Well, I said, if they were inconclusive, why bother hiding
them?

He would just look at me, speaking not one more word on the subject.

Scully and I did, however, get more information on other topics. For one
thing, who was this third group that took Joel Graham away? I asked this
question the moment we landed in Rome. Schwartz waited until we got into a
car. As he drove us from the airport and through the twisted streets of
Rome, he gave us this answer.

"I don't know their name. Up until now, they've only been a rumor. Ever
since the late twenties, there have been tales of a secret collaboration
between select Healers and Warriors. This collaboration sought to create a
dynasty removed from the bloodline. And its origins would be in Germany."

Scully and I looked at each other. Then she turned to Schwartz and said,
"The Nazis?"

Schwartz nodded. "It was the art of the Healers welded together to the
strength of the Warriors. The scientific expertise of the former meshing
with the blunt efficiency of the latter. It was an attempt to create the
purest kind of regime -- one transcendent of morality, history, religion,
even biology."

"It almost succeeded," I said.

Schwartz nodded again.

"But you've never been able to prove this group's existence until now,"
Scully noted.

"Like I said, there have only been rumors. However, it's the only possible
explanation for Joel Graham's abduction. These people knew who he was, where
he was and what was his weakness. They could have only acquired that
information through Healers and Warriors."

"Couldn't that team have been working for one of the two sides?" I asked.
"You know, trying to acquire Graham for their own..."

"No. The whole reason why Healers and Warriors are coming together on this
is because they don't want a war to break out over Joel. If either side was
responsible for that operation, war would most assuredly happen. It has to
be this third group."

We stopped for a traffic light. Schwartz stared at the trunk of the car
ahead of them, then struck his hand against the steering wheel. The motion
was angry, but his voice was still level and controlled. "This is my fault."

"Your fault?" Scully said.

"Well...the fault of me and my...predecessors." He glanced at Scully before
looking back at the road. "I am neither a Healer or a Warrior. I serve as an
arbitrator between the two sides. It's a job that has been passed down from
one person to another through the centuries. The official title is Ormus."
He looked at me. "Ring any bells, Agent Mulder?"

"Ormus was an Egyptian thinker who studied at Alexandria in the first few
decades after Christ's birth," I said. "Reportedly, he was converted to
Christianity, but his personal belief system combined its philosophy with
other religions."

Schwartz laughed. "Agent Scully, your partner has a remarkable quantity of
trivia in his head."

Scully gave me a brief smile. I gave one in return. It was the first time we
had smiled at each other in awhile.

The traffic got moving again. "Was Ormus the first arbitrator?" I asked.

"Um...might have been," Schwartz said. He shrugged.

"Did all the Ormuses have the same gift as..."

Keeping his eyes on the road, Schwartz lifted a finger. "What did I say on
the plane, Agent Mulder?" he said.

"You can't take us this far and not..."

"Don't be so sure that you want to know what I know. Believe me, it's not a
weight you want to carry."

It was quiet for a minute in the car. The only sounds coming to us were the
hum of the engine and the occasional horn.

Then Scully said --

"You said that this problem was your fault."

"I should have done my work. I should have found this third group. And,
uh...so should have my predecessors. However, the Ormuses of the twentieth
century have been rather...lax in their duties. Including me."

"And now?"

"And now...I have to find out how high this goes. I have to find out who
among the Healers and Warriors are in this group. Then, I have to find where
they're keeping Joel Graham."

"So where do we fit in?"

Schwartz didn't speak until we hit another traffic light. Then he looked at
Scully and said, "You established a bond with Joel. A twisted kind of bond,
but something real, nevertheless. Right now, this third group is probably
molding him to their own purposes. I need you to break their hold on his
mind."

"And if I can't?"

He took a long breath, then turned back to the road. "I'll have to think of
something else then."

"Well, if you have the same gift as Joel..."

"Again...that's something I rather not discuss."

The traffic light changed. Schwartz stepped on the gas.

"So, what about me?" I asked.

"You are my gesture of good faith towards Scully," Schwartz told me.
"Healing you was a way of getting her trust. Your presence is here to
guarantee that trust."

"In other words, I'm just along for the ride."

"More or less. You can assist me in my search for the infiltrators."

"I can do better than that. I can find them for you."

Schwartz glanced at me. "Is that so?"

"That is so."

"Agent Mulder...we are talking about two very old and very complex
organizations. My knowledge about them far exceeds..."

"I'm not particularly good at keeping on the sidelines, Mr. Schwartz. One
way or another, I'll make a nuisance out of myself."

"Then, perhaps, I should have you locked up."

I looked to Scully. For a few moments, she seemed to be thinking that having
me under lock wouldn't be such a bad thing. However, she said, "Mr.
Schwartz, if anybody can find these infiltrators...Mulder can."

Schwartz held back his reply for a long time.

"All right," he finally said. "It will be your investigation. But don't be
surprised if I yank your chain, Mulder. You are to limit yourself to finding
the third group. Anymore than that..."

"I've got the message. Trust me, I know what's at stake. Finding Joel Graham
is the top priority. I have a bad feeling that right now..."

"Yes?"

"...Joel is having way too much fun."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

ANDREA HESS

When Joel rolled up his shirt for me and showed his new muscular torso, I
felt very uneasy for a couple of reasons. One reason was that this change
meant he was being drawn closer to the goals of my group.

The other reason is that I preferred the other Joel -- the lumpy, gawky Joel
Graham. However, thanks to my manipulation, he was turning himself into one
of Nietzsche's "blond beasts."

"Like it?" he asked with a grin as he slapped his abs. They resembled loafs
of bread stacked upon the other.

I kept my face cool and distant. "I see you have used your gift on
yourself."

"Yeah. It's funny but I never thought of using it this way before. Then I
realized -- if I can use it to heal myself, why can't I use to improve my
body?" He flexed one of his round biceps at me. "Some kind of improvement,
huh?"

I sneered at him. "That means nothing. I could still thrash you like a
kitten."

The grin on his face became smug and unpleasant. "Oh, really?" he said and
charged at me.

It was more difficult to subdue him this time. Not only had Joel enhanced
his strength, but I had been teaching fighting technique to him over the
past week. Luckily, he was still getting used to his new body and I knew
a few tricks that I had been keeping to myself.

Later on, I walked to the door as he laid on the ground, sweating and
panting. I stopped at the door and gave him another one of my cold looks.
"You are still weak inside," I told him.

He looked up at me with his red, wet face. For a moment, he seemed afraid.

Then the grin returned and he said, "Hold that thought."

I held back a shudder. I left to confer with General Erhard.

"We are making definite progress," he commented as he looked at Joel Graham
on a video screen. The secret camera in his room showed him doing fast
push-ups while listening to Wagner.

"Yes, General. It won't be long before we reach the next stage."

He looked at me as if I was a machine yet to be tested. "Are you prepared
for that?"

"Yes, sir. I am."

He nodded in satisfaction and patted me on the shoulder. "You are a good
woman, Andrea. A good woman and a true servant of the Purifiers."

"That's all I wanted to be, sir."

Erhard dismissed me and I returned back to my quarters. Again, I was
grateful to get out of that goddamned black suit. Then I sat on my bed,
feeling close to tears.

By all rights, Joel should have realized long ago that his gift could
improve his unfit body. He never used it before because there was some
part of him resistant to such vanity. It was the same part of him that
realized the immorality of his actions and wanted him to be punished; that
understood the sickness of his own mind. There had been a conscience
inside of him -- a weak one, but a conscience nevertheless.

Now, Joel was ridding himself of it. He was giving himself completely over
to his fantasies of power and domination.

Thanks to me.

I had watched a videotape of his performance of Henry Higgins. It was a
charming amateur job -- cheery, inventive, unafraid of embarrassment.
That was Joel Graham at his best. That was the Joel who disdained empty
notions of power. I preferred that clumsy young man to the imperious god he
was becoming.

Earlier in my life, I had yearned for the latter. The Purifiers saw that
yearning in my soul, despite my reputation as a comedic actress. That and my
familial connections allowed me access to their group. At first, I was
entranced by it. The idea of reshaping the world was seductive. Let's burn
all weakness away, I thought. Let's melt humanity down and reshape it into a
strong, shiny new form. Let's go beyond politics and take over the soul of
man.

My disillusionment was not the result of any new information or unexpected
incident. I had known what the Purifiers had done in the past and accepted
it as necessary. What happened was a growing awareness of how much
self-hatred and fear lived under the group's bravado. I found myself in
another troupe of actors who were desperate to maintain an illusion. They
wanted to believe that they had been entrusted with humanity's future.
Unfortunately, there was no off-stage to hide in and drop the pretense.

I wouldn't call this a moral awakening. I had simply come to understand what
a crazed German philosopher had meant by "the banality of evil."

And I was pulling Joel Graham into that banality.

Unfortunately, I could see no way off the stage. I had accepted a role and
attempting to free myself from it would be pointless. They could find a
ready replacement if I was unable to continue.

I thought about "the next stage." Sooner or later, he would defeat me
in combat. It would be then that I would push him into doing the greatest
miracle of all.

Privately, I hoped he wouldn't succeed and not just because I had come to
despise the Purifiers.

I wanted to die.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

PART ELEVEN

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What have the helmet and the mitre in common? What
association is there between the cross and the sword,
between the Holy Book and the shield?"

                                                        -- Erasmus

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

ORMUS

I admit it. I was impressed.

Agent Mulder did exactly as he said. He found the infiltrators in every
corner of the two organizations. The investigations weren't comfortable for
anyone. Mulder kept running into areas from where he was barred and he had
to argue long and hard with me before I allowed him access. In the end,
however, he completed his task with the utmost efficiency and skill. If it
hadn't been for all the security roadblocks in his path, it would have taken
him less time to reach his goal than the eight days he spent on the
investigation.

I shouldn't have been surprised by how far it went up, but I was.

Nor should I have been surprised that trusted people should have given into
the temptations of this third group. I have known the sweet taste of power
before. Even after I went underground, I kept resurfacing in the role of
kings or kingmakers. I would tell myself that it was necessary for the
cause, but I also delighted in the tributes of sycophants, the flamboyant
ceremonies and the knowledge that lives could be changed with just one word
from my lips.

Over and over again, however, I came to realize that rulers were just larger
pieces of flotsam on the river of history. As Wilfrid of York, I
orchestrated the rise of Dagobert II to King of Austrasia, hoping that this
would be the stepping stone to a world dynasty. Unfortunately, the new king
had a mind of his own and was unwilling to stick to the party line. Bringing
him down was one of the most bitter tasks of my long life. As Pope Julius
II, my wars against the French consolidated the rule of the Vatican over
Italy, thus keeping the Papacy alive for the future. What a future it was,
though. When Martin Luther nailed his complaints to a church door and Rome
was sacked, I realized that my victories had been at the expense of ignoring
inner problems. These were just two of many failures. It took me a long time
to realize that the world was too...well, too quirky to be controlled. Too
eccentric. Too willing to indulge in its own little ironies.

As I waited for the traitors to arrive, I contemplated one of those ironies.
I looked out the window at the city of Rome. This was the city that I once
hated with all of my soul. Centuries later, I would fill it with beautiful
art of all kinds. Whenever I think of crusty old Michealango, I chuckle. He
was the only man in Italy who could say "Piss off, your Holiness!" to Julius
II and not get imprisoned. He got away with it because he could create a
beauty that defied the power of any pope or king. Not only did the Sistine
Chapel mock the imperiousness of regimes, it transcended them. Rulers have
been defeated, kingdoms have been shattered and great causes have been
forgotten, but Adam still reaches out to touch the hand of God.

I had learned my lesson about the emptiness of power. It was time to teach
it to someone else.

There was a knocking at the door. "Come in," I said. I didn't turn around as
Adnan Pahlavi and Vito Guli entered the room. "You wish to see us, Ormus?"
Guli asked.

"I wanted to ask you about this group you're involved in," I said, still not
turning around. There was silence behind me. I imagine Guli and Pahlavi
looking at each other, knowing that the game was up.

Pahlavi said, "Well..."

"Yes," I said. "Well." I turned around and looked at the two men. Much to my
dismay, they did not look afraid. This meant I would have to get rough with
them.

"What is the name of your group?" I asked.

"We call ourselves Purifiers," Guli answered. "And that's all you will ever
know."

"I know what this group has done in the past. Now I want to know why the
hell you two are members."

"You've seen the world, Ormus..."

"I've seen more than you can imagine." I looked at the old Cardinal. "How
can you side with these people? You were the one who spent his youth in an
anti-fascist organization."

Guli shrugged. "Things change."

"Well, what about you, Adnan? I imagine there's not much room among
Purifiers for someone with your color of skin."

"No," Pahlavi admitted. "Not much room at all. But as Vito says...things
change. The question is...will things change for the better or the worse?"

"And after what was done at Treblinka and Dachau and Auschwitz, you're going
to tell me Purifiers can make the world better?"

"Neither Healers and Warriors have much in the way of moral superiority to
Purifiers," Guli said. "Neither does the office of Ormus."

"Again, Vito...you have no idea."

I walked past the two men and locked the door. Then I turned to them. "I
want to know where they're keeping Joel Graham."

Both men smiled. "That is something we will not tell," Pahlavi assured me.
"No matter what your torturers do to us."

"You're mistaken. I'm not going to turn you over to anybody. I'm going to
handle this myself."

Their smiles went away.

"And I'm not going to torture you..."

I walked towards them.

"...I'm going to put the fear of God into you."

A few seconds later, Guli and Pahlavi were writhing on the floor, screaming
their lungs out. I let them suffer for a minute or two. Then I touched them
again. It took them awhile before they could even speak.

"Merciful Allah..." Pahlavi croaked in Arabic.

Guli looked up at me, his wrinkled face drained of color. I felt sickened to
see the look in his eyes. It wasn't just fear. It was awe.

"My Lord and Savior..." he gasped.

I sighed. "Actually...I am."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

SCULLY

When Mulder revealed his discovery about Guli and Pahlavi, Schwartz remained
silent for awhile. Then he said, "Why don't you and Scully do a little
sight-seeing? I'll call you when I need you."

Mulder and I left Schwartz for the sidewalks of Rome. We strolled past shops
and bookstores for awhile before stopping at a cafe where the waiters spoke
English. Neither Mulder and I spoke to the other before settling down at a
table and making our orders.

"We could try to see the Sistine Chapel," Mulder suggested. "I mean, we are
in Rome and we might as well take the opportunity..."

"I don't think so, Mulder."

Mulder looked towards the window and watched the people going by on the
street. He stared at the children, old people, businessmen and tourists for
a long time before he said --

"You wouldn't believe how far this thing stretches."

"I'm sure I would believe it."

"There are a lot of important people who are either a Healer or a Warrior.
And they..." He turned back to me. "But that's nothing we haven't
encountered before, right?"

I nodded.

Mulder placed his hands on the table where they squirmed and rubbed against
each other. "What if it were true, Scully?"

"Do you find any evidence that it was true?"

"No. Nothing concrete, but...suppose it was true?"

"I'm sure you would feel vindicated, Mulder."

He flinched. "What do you mean by that?"

I looked down at the tablecloth. "Sorry. Forget it."

"You think I would like this to be true? That I want this whole story of a
bloodline to be a reality?"

"I think...you are someone who likes to hammer away at old beliefs."

"I don't want to tear anything down just for the fun of it."

I lifted my gaze back to his face.

"Well...okay. There's a part of me that does enjoy it. But I only want the
same thing you want. I want the truth. Do you believe that?"

I gave him a small smile. "I do. It's just that...sometimes...you barrel
into situations without really considering the wider meanings. You're a
little too quick to embrace ideas that could...change everything."

Mulder stilled his hands and he leaned towards me. "Would it change anything
for you, Scully?"

"I really don't know. I just don't know."

The conversation halted. In that period of silence, the waiter brought our
lunch. Mulder lifted his knife and fork, then put them back down. He looked
at me and said, "I wish I had your faith."

My own hands froze as they reached for my utensils. "You do?" I asked,
sounding more bewildered than I wanted.

Mulder's face tightened in embarrassment. "Well...yes. I do. I admire your
faith. I know that I'm not always as...respectful of it as I should be..."

"Mulder, I don't take it personally..."

"Don't you?"

I didn't answer that. On one level, Mulder's dismissive attitude towards
organized religion didn't bother me. That was just him being him. On another
level...yes, I did take it personally. After all I had been through, it was
my faith in God that gave me the strength to go on. The trouble was that it
was also Mulder who had given me strength. I was caught between my two
faiths -- my faith in God and my faith in Mulder. I didn't like the idea of
them conflicting.

Mulder said, "It's just that it's so hard to reconcile everything that I've
seen...everything that has happened to us...to you...with the idea of a
benevolent deity. I just don't see why He would have let someone like you
suffer."

I looked away from him, uneasy with the intense look in his eyes.
"Mulder...I'm not a saint. God doesn't owe me anything..."

"I think He owes you plenty. You've given Him your faith and your trust so
why doesn't He..."

Mulder stopped himself, uncomfortable with the anger he was expressing. I
took a breath and turned back to him.

"When I first met you," I said. "I was closer to your views on religion than
I am now. I hadn't been to a church in years. I carried this with me..." I
touched the crucifix around my neck. "...but it was more for sentimental
reasons than anything else."

"So, what changed?" he asked.

"I learned that faith is important. That not everything in this world needs
to be measured and defined before we can trust in it." I smiled. "I learned
that from you."

Mulder gave me a surprised look, then he smiled. "Well...I know now that
some things *do* need to be measured and defined. For better or worse, I
need one of those things to be God. I need some kind of real evidence of His
charity before I can trust Him."

"I understand. Speaking for myself, I can think of one thing that God gave
to me."

"What's that?"

I reached a hand across the table. Mulder gazed at my eyes and he reached
out his hand as well. The touch was warm, strong and comforting.

We just held hands and looked at each other.

Then Mulder's cellular phone rang.

He gave it a look that was as annoyed as I felt. Then he sighed and he
released my hand, pressing his fingertips against mine before he pulled out
his phone. "Mulder," he said in a flat tone.

As the caller spoke, his face stiffened. "All right. Scully and I are having
lunch. We'll finish it and then...okay, okay. We'll be there."

He sighed and disconnected the phone. "Looks like we'll have to bag our
lunch, Scully," he sighed.

"Was that Schwartz?"

"Yes. He got the necessary information out of Guli and Pahlavi."

"How?"

"He didn't say," he replied with a grim look.

"I see. So, what now?"

"Now...we are headed for Germany."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

PART TWELVE

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Woe to thee, O land, when thy king is a child..."

                                                -- Ecclesiastes 10:16

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

ANDREA HESS

By the time Joel had defeated me in combat, he had fully changed into a
"blond beast." He used his gift to change his brown hair blonde, shorten his
long nose and sharpen his cheekbones. He retained his sensual mouth and
sharp blue eyes. His face lost its goofiness and became coldly beautiful.
The look in his eyes was just as cold. Put that face on a muscular body and
you have something straight out of a Leni Refenstehl film. He was so fucking
Aryan now that I wanted to puke.

He had the cold look in his eyes as he pinned to my floor. He pressed his
weight body down on me. His trim grey uniform rubbed against my leather
outfit. I realized that I was not going to get up until he let me.

"You are mine," he hissed in German.

I closed my eyes. I could feel him leaning down towards me. When I felt his
breath on my lips, I opened my eyes and said, "No. I am not."

For a brief moment, he looked dumbfounded and I saw the old Joel Graham in
his face. Then he sneered at me. "Don't be a fool, woman."

"You have yet to dominate me," I told him.

"What are you talking about?" He gripped my wrists tighter.

I hesitated. This was the next stage. Taking Joel here could change him
forever. I wasn't afraid he would succeed. I was afraid he would.

"Well?" he said.

"What...what is the greatest power you could hold over a person?"

Joel thought about it for a long time, letting me feeling the uncomfortable
pressure of his weight.

Finally, he said, "The power to take a person's life."

"No."

"It's not?"

"Anyone can take a life. In this aspect, the lowest criminal is no different
than a ruler of nations. Think, Joel. What would be a greater power than
that?"

When he realized the answer, Joel slid off my body. He sat on the floor next
to me, arms around his knees. I remained lying on the floor.

He said, "I'm not sure I could do that."

"You don't know until you try."

He looked down at me. "You are so close to becoming the god you
deserve to be," I told him. "Take this final step. Claim your birthright."

"I'm not risking myself in this test. You are."

"I want to risk myself."

He looked away from me.

"Take a few minutes before you bring me back. And have Erhard's doctor look
at me first. There should be no doubts in this matter." I reached up and
touched him on the back. "Do this and you shall be the greatest of men."

Several minutes passed by without Joel saying a word. I kept quiet myself,
ordering my fears and doubts to be still.

Then he turned to me.

He grasped my hand.

"It won't hurt," he said and I felt weak. My limbs became incapable of
movement. I felt less and less air moving through my throat. Even
though I didn't feel tired, my vision was being covered in blackness. I
recall this sense of being...hollowed out. It was as if the bones and
muscles in my skin were turning to air.

What I don't recall is an exact moment of "death." In my memory, I don't
remember Joel's hands ever leaving my body. When my vision started to clear
up and the feeling returned to my body, I was afraid that he had stopped my
murder at the last moment.

Then I saw General Erhard and a doctor standing above me. I was bewildered.
When did they come in?

The doctor bent down and listened to my heart through a stethoscope. He
checked my pulse. He asked, "How do you feel?"

"I feel...fine."

The doctor looked up at Erhard and said, "I would like to do some
neurological tests on her. Check to see if there was any brain damage."

Before Erhard could speak, a voice said, "That won't be necessary." The
voice was unrecognizable at first. I looked up in its direction and saw
Joel.

Or someone who used to be Joel.

He lifted me to my feet as if I was a doll. Grasping onto my hand with a
light yet firm grip, he looked at me for a few moments. I looked straight
back at him even though I was frightened.

Then he turned to the doctor and Erhard. "I have done this miracle. Now,
would anybody be so foolish as to challenge me?"

A large smile formed on the General's face. "No one, Herr Graham. No one
would."

Looking as if they had been waiting to do this all their life, Erhard and
the doctor stepped back, clicked their shoes, lifted up a arm and
exclaimed, "Heil Graham!"

Joel took their tribute as his due. He turned to me and said, "From now on,
you shall be by my side. You shall serve as my queen and my consort.
Together, we shall create an empire the likes of which no one has never
seen."

I smiled and I knelt before my new groom. Inside, however, I was bitter. It
had been my secret hope that Joel would not succeed in bringing me back. I
wanted to be shoved into the comforting darkness of the off-stage. Instead,
I was still under the hot lights.

And it was time to go on the world tour.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

ORMUS

"Hell's bells," Mulder said. "That's a real goddamn castle."

"I told you it was."

"Yeah, but look at it! How gothic can you get?"

Mulder was right to be dumbfounded. The headquarters of the Purifiers
belonged in an old Universal horror flick or a Tim Burton movie. Imposing
towers, leering gargoyles, dark moat, iron drawbridge...you can get the idea
from there. It had been designed to be so melodramatic that you wanted to
laugh at it in the same way you wanted to laugh at the architecture of
Albert Speer or the Nuremburg rallies. Come on, you think. No one could take
this seriously.

Then you realize that a large number of determined people aren't laughing.

Neither Mulder, Scully or myself felt like laughing as we watched the
castle. In keeping with the gothic motif, the castle was located between a
dark forest and an icy mountain. It was in the forest from which we were
watching the castle. A mile behind us, an army waited for my command.

"Gothic or not," I said. "we have to get inside and..."

"And what?" Scully asked. "Just what would you do with Joel Graham?"

"Anything that was necessary."

There was a moment of silence which Mulder interrupted. "Could you kill him
if you had to?"

"Like I said...anything that..."

"No, I mean *could* you?"

I leaned against one of the hard elms in the forest and thought about that
question. "I don't know," I answered. "My guess is that with enough
relentless bodily damage, Joel could be killed. But I just don't know."

"If anybody should know, you should," Mulder said.

"Agent Mulder..." I sighed.

"What if you were to use your gift on him? Would that..."

"Enough!" My voice became so loud that I briefly feared the people at the
castle heard me. I took a few moments to compose myself, then said --

"I could tell you everything I know. And it still wouldn't be enough. I
could explain who I am and how I got to be this way. It still wouldn't
answer all of your questions, because I don't have all the answers.
There is no great truth to be found in my life. Just more mysteries."

I turned away from the two agents and looked at the big, ridiculous castle.

Then Scully said, "Maybe there's one question you can answer."

"What's that?" I grumbled.

"Suppose Joel agrees to leave the Purifiers. What then? What purpose would
he serve?"

Without looking at her, I nodded. "Yes. That's a question that I can answer.
Will Joel become a Healer? Or a Warrior? Will he serve both sides? The
answer is -- Joel will do nothing. I will make sure that his gift serves no
cause."

"Why would you do that?

"Let me just say that...I am content to let the world go on its way."

"Are we supposed to believe that?"

"Agent Scully, you've seen what I can do. If I wanted power for myself, I
could have taken it a long time ago."

There was a moment of silence, then she said, "So, you would kill him if you
had to."

I turned towards Scully. "I'm hoping it won't come to that. Which is why
you're here."

"You think I can talk him out of leaving the Purifiers," she said in a quiet
voice.

"You established a bond with him..."

"Not really. I just fitted into his erotic fantasies."

"Well, that's a start. If anyone can break the hold this...this woman has on
him, you can."

"No one has a hold on Joel," Mulder said. "You can push him in a certain
direction, but it comes down to his own choice."

"Then what can I do?" Scully asked.

Mulder looked down at his feet. He kicked at a pile of leaves. When he
looked back up, he said, "You can tell him the truth."

Scully took a step towards the castle. She stared at it with her hands on
her hips.

She turned to me and said, "I think Joel Graham is a disturbed and perverted
creep. But -- for some reason -- I think he's entitled to a chance."

"That's what I think, too. Now, the problem is -- how do you get to him?"

She smiled at me. The appearance of a smile on that solemn face was rather
surprising and pleasing.

"How else do you get into any building? You knock."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

PART THIRTEEN

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
 

"You can carry the hammer, but can you pound the nails?"

                                                         -- Henry Rollins

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

JOEL GRAHAM

In the time that I was in Germany, I rarely thought about my parents. I had
trouble thinking about my old life at all. When I was on the road in the
United States, I would often remember the house which I lived in and the two
people who had supported their distant, quiet son. My memories were a source
of guilt for me as I hurt women.

After I raised Andrea from the dead, guilt seemed impossible to me.

Consider how you feel about ants crawling at your feet or worms slithering
in the dirt. At that moment, I regarded all of humanity in the same way. I
felt like the world was under my boot and it lived on only at my whim. I
wasn't the next Hitler. I had gone further than that little
methamphetamine-addict had went. I had turned myself from a gawky high
school graduate into a god walking on the Earth. There was no doubt that I
was destined to lead great armies, conquer the world, be worshipped by one
and all.

And don't think you could have resisted the same feelings. Not if you had
been in my shoes. What would have you done if you had that kind of power in
your grasp?

Tomorrow Erhard would make the announcement of a new leader and the
beginning of a new campaign. For the night, I would concentrate on Andrea.

You don't think I knew what she was doing? I understood that she was
manipulating me into unleashing my blond beast. However, she only pointed
out that the beast existed. It was my decision to let the beast go.

And I knew more about her than she guessed. Do you think I never saw the
doubt in your eye, Andrea? You played your role well, but I had just enough
experience on the stage to know a performer when I saw one. I was a
willing and participative audience, but that didn't mean I couldn't see the
artifice. When I touched her, I could sense that her body and face were
products of medical technology. I also realized that she didn't believe in
the role anymore. She was merely playing it because she felt trapped.
Freeing ourselves from the persona we have adopted requires a strength much
of us lack. One of the hardest things to say is "This is not who I am."

The trouble was that I had come to believe my role. This is who I am, I
thought. I am the new leader for a new world. I am a Purifier. I will change
everything from the highest office to the souls of every peasant.

I was willing to accept Andrea as a companion in my quest. However, I found
myself wondering if I should pick someone else...

Andrea and I were in the process of removing our clothes when the phone in
the bedroom rang. I ignored it at first. It continued to ring.

"Perhaps you should answer it..." Andrea said in a near-whisper. She wasn't
looking at me as she sat on the bed with her leather vest removed.

"Very well," I sighed, then picked up the phone. "What is it?"

"My apologies, my Fuhrer," Erhard said. His voice was tight and nervous.
"But there is..."

"Don't call me that. I will not be known as 'Fuhrer.' That is the name of a
failure. I will let you know how I will be properly addressed in the future,
but, for now, address me as 'Herr Graham.'"

The General cleared his throat. "Of course. Or course, Herr Graham."

"Now, what is it?"

He told me of the three visitors on the other side of the moat.

I paused for a moment, then I broke out laughing. "Amazing. They actually
found me here."

"What...what should we do?"

"Why, General, where are your manners? Let them in, of course."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

MULDER

I was beyond "not liking" this. I absolutely despised the whole plan. Scully
was going to try to get into the head of a young man who was not only
sexually maladjusted, but who had undoubtedly been subjected to some heavy
psychological conditioning. Before we got to Germany, I told her, "The
Purifiers have been probably trying to mold him into the man they want.
They've been using his own fetishes and twisting them into...I don't know
what, but it ain't gonna be pretty."

"It's been ten days. How far do you think he's gone?"

"I'm guessing they have been working hard on him. They must have known that
Warriors and Healers would be onto them soon."

Scully nodded. "So..that kind of leaves it to me, doesn't it?"

This was the point where I should have bitched and moaned. There are two
reasons why I didn't. One is that Scully had chosen her course and I saw no
point in arguing over it. The other reason is that there didn't seem to be
any other alternative. Like Ormus said, there's no way of telling if we can
actually kill this guy.

Did I say Ormus? I mean Schwartz.

Or whatever his name was.

Schwartz made the least sense in this whole affair. I believed him when he
professed his disinterest in power, but why wasn't he interested? Who was
this guy? Was he another genetic anomaly like Joel Graham? Did all of the
Ormuses of the past have the same gift of healing? Why was it so important
for his secret to be covered up?

As the drawbridge lowered with a suitably loud shifting of gears, I
considered other questions. Just what to do about Joel Graham? Would it be
right to kill him? Like Scully said, there was a part of you that resisted
hating him. The person I had met was more confused than evil -- confused
about his sexuality, his lack of identity, his need to be dominant, his need
to be submissive and a power granted to him by a quirk of biology or God.

Who will we meet now, though? Who were we being led to through corridors
lit by (I kid you not) flaming torches? Soldiers in grey uniform and gold
badges were marching in a circle around us. I found myself hating them not
just for the evil they represented or the threat they posed to Scully. I
hated their pomposity and self-righteousness and hollow grandeur.

If Joel Graham has become one of them, I thought, then we damn well better
kill him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

SCULLY

"O-we-oo, yo-hoooooo-ho. O-we-oo, yo-hoooooo-ho..."

I gave Mulder a brief smile as he chanted this tune at the soldiers around
us. I like to think that it annoyed the stone-faced troops. Normally, I
would not appreciate Mulder trying to antagonize the guards, but I knew that
we were not in danger from them. There was the feeling that they would walk
through fire to deliver us to our final destination. It was their utmost
duty to serve the man who had permitted our entrance.

What was I planning to do when I saw Joel Graham? At the time, I didn't
know. I wasn't sure in what condition we would find him.

Improvisation is not my skill. Neither is the kind of psychology Mulder
specializes in. Yet I would have to rely on both to deal with Joel's mind. I
had succeeded before, but this was a different situation. Someone else was
exerting influence over him.

When I had first used my femininity to catch Joel, it had been an
uncomfortable task, but it had been the most practical decision at the
time. Now, I was walking into even more twisted territory -- this area
where lust and control meet. I had apprehended Joel before because I
was a woman in a traditional male role. Now, I needed to rely on...
something else.

I was hoping to rely on Delmore Schwartz. What if two men with this same
gift encountered the other? Would one be able to overpower the other? Not
only were those questions hard to answer, but I still didn't know which
way he would jump. I knew he wouldn't side with the Purifiers. That left
him...what?

Just who was this man anyway?

Why did he look sad?

And why did that sadness affect me so much?

At that moment, though, he didn't look sad. He looked scared.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

ORMUS

Yes, I was scared. I hadn't been this scared in a long time. The last time
that I recall this kind of terror was when...

Oh, God...

It had been years and years and years ago. Can you imagine what's it like to
drag a heavy piece of wood on your bloody and weak back...to be spurred on
by a lash everytime you slow down...to feel hot sunlight as heavy as your
burden...to feel the dust choke your lungs as you take another step that
tears at your feet?

To know that the worst has yet to come?

It would be gratuitous to describe the agony of a crucifixion. Every Sunday
school student can imagine it. Of course, until you actually experience
it...

For me, there was also the pain of seeing my family as they watched me die
inch by inch. There was my father, his normally stoic face trembling. My
mother was down on her knees, praying out loud in that fervent way which had
annoyed me in my youth. Mary was holding the hand of our son Barabbas. Both
of their faces looked numb -- hers with grief and his with incomprehension.

And there was Jude.

In the telling of the story, one of the things I shouted out was misquoted.
That was a deliberate bit of editing on my part when the Council of Nicea
was preparing the story for the world. I reportedly said, "My God, why have
you forsaken me?"

In reality, it was "My brother, why have you forsaken me?"

The next thing I know, my brother was arguing with one of the soldiers. His
face was grim and desperate. It was only when he slid a few coins in the
soldier's hands that he was allowed to come near me. He brought with him a
bowl and a cloth wrapped on a stick.

If there had been any spit in my mouth, I would have dropped some on his
head. My mouth was so dry, however, that I accepted the sour, wet taste of
vinegar offered by my traitorous brother. As I sucked on the cloth, he
touched me on one of my spiked feet.

That's when life changed forever for me.

Centuries later, here I was, afraid again. At the same time, though, I
couldn't resist feeling hopeful. Joel Graham was a threat to be dealt with,
but I was wondering if he could be something else. Facing the dawn of a new
millennium, I had been praying for a way out of my life. In a young pervert,

I might have found that way.

You know...I could have just easily cried out to God on the cross. I was
certainly crying out to him at that moment.

Do not forsake me now, O Lord. Let this be my chance to let it all go. Let
me rest.

Let me have the death you denied me.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

PART FOURTEEN

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Again, the devil taketh him up into an exceeding
high mountain, and sheweth him all the kingdoms
of the world, and the glory of them.

"And saith unto him, All these things will I give
thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me."

                                        -- Matthew 4: 8-9

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

ANDREA HESS

I recognized all three people who came into the bedroom. Two of them had
been in the jail when the Purifiers had taken Joel. One was a man, the other
was a woman. Despite having been shot, the man was looking quite well.

Of course, I also recognized the third person -- Ormus. For a brief moment,
I dared to hope for a way out of the trap I was in.

The door was locked with just the three visitors, myself and Joel inside the
room. At first, the newcomers were confused when they saw Joel. Then he
grinned and said, "It's been awhile, hasn't it?" The shock and amazement on
their faces killed the hope inside of me. I realized that they had come here
with no plan, no means of rescue.

And now they were stuck like me. I pulled my robe closer to my naked body
and sat still on the velvet-covered bed. Joel spread his own robe wide,
letting them see his hard chest, powerful legs and...yes...his ridiculously
long penis.

"There have been some changes since then," he declared as he slapped his
flat stomach. "Changes that will remain in place, I might add."

He looked at Ormus. The middle-aged man gave him a despairing gaze in
return.

"This could have been yours," Joel said. "But you were too afraid to take
it."

Ormus said nothing. I was confused. What was Joel talking about?

Joel walked up to Ormus. He stopped within an inch of the other man's face.
"Have you come to challenge me?" he taunted. "Have you come to try to knock
me off my throne?"

Ormus still said nothing.

"Well, speak up, man."

"Actually," the woman said. "we've come to talk you down from it."

Joel turned to her with his eyebrows raised and a cheery grin on his face. I
don't think I was ever more disgusted with him than I was at that moment.

"And why should I do that?" he asked as he walked towards her. The woman
stayed her ground, staring back at Joel with sharp blue eyes. The other man,
however, looked ready to hit Joel.

"Why should I decline the power which is rightfully mine?" he asked as he
stood in front of her. "Is not all flesh under my control?" He touched her
on the cheek. "Including yours?"

That did it for the second man. He took a step towards Joel, damning the
consequences of his actions. He stopped, however, when the woman lifted a
hand towards him. She did this while still keeping eye contact with Joel.

He rubbed a finger down her cheek and across her chin. She made only the
slightest reaction -- a brief twitch in her hand, a quick intake of breath.

Joel looked at me, his hand still on the woman's face. In the large, marble
bedroom, the distance between us was wide.

"She is beautiful, isn't she?"

"She is," I said, because she was. Hers was a true beauty -- graceful
and poetic as opposed to the plastic, rigid looks given to me.

"And she didn't have to go through an operation to look like this," he
added.

It was a startling and confusing  moment for me. On one hand,
I was unnerved that Joel had seen behind my disguise. On the other
hand...I  started to feel hopeful again. I wondered if I might get my
escape after all.

"She's strong yet kind," Joel continued. "Commanding when she has to be but
prudent in her decisions. She is...an ideal."

"That's me," the woman said in a deadpan voice. "Miss Wonderful. What's your
point?"

The smirk left Joel's face and was replaced by a thoughtful expression. He
walked towards one of the walls where ornate paintings hung. He studied
the paintings for a few moments, tapping a finger on his chin. Then he
turned to us, closing his robe.

"I have no interest in leaving my throne. However, every king needs a
queen." He looked straight at the woman. "And you, Agent Scully...would make
an excellent queen."

This was something nobody expected. Scully's jaw hung open. Ormus let out a
gasp. It took me a moment to realize that I should react in keeping with my
overall performance. I leapt to my feet and cried out "No, my love!" with
suitable anguish. Inside, however, I was sighing with relief.

If my reaction was faked, the third man's anger was very real. "All right,
you Nazi asshole..."

"Mulder, no!" Scully shouted at him. Her voice was firm enough to stop him
in his tracks. He stood in his place like a chained man, hands clenched at
his side.

After making sure Mulder would do nothing foolish, Scully focused on Joel.
"What is it you're asking?"

"Just what I said...to be my queen. To rule at my side. You can do nothing
to stop the coming of my kingdom, but...you can see to it that it's a just
one."

"Meaning...I would have a say in how it's run?"

"Yes."

"I see." Scully paused. "And I'm supposed to believe you would listen to
me?"

"I listened to you before, didn't I?"

Scully looked as if she wasn't sure that she was dreaming. She knew that
Joel was speaking the truth. It must have made her dizzy to consider the
possibilities.

"Of course, there is a slight problem," Joel said. "I already have a queen."
He indicated me. "I confess that I have...a few doubts about her. I wouldn't
listen to her counsel as I would listen to yours."

"My love, how can you say these things?" I asked, making sure my voice was
choked up.

"Shhh. Do not throw away hope yet. There is still a way of proving yourself
to me. It's the same way Scully has to prove herself to me."

"What is it? I'll do anything!" Goodness me, but I was milking it.

Joel looked down at a chair. He picked it up, swung this lovely eighteenth
century antique up into the air and smashed it on the stone floor. He
selected two of the larger pieces and held each in his hand.

"Behold," I said. "All matter is under my control, not just the flesh."

The wood began to liquefy and twist in his hands. The brown color changed to
silver and gold. Then the objects became solid.

He held up two knives. Candlelight bounced off their silver blades and gold
hilts.

Then he placed them on the floor. She shoved one in my direction and the
other in Scully's. They each stopped within reaching distance.

"We settle it by combat," he declared, holding his hands behind his back.
"Combat to the death. Do you accept this challenge, Andrea?"

I grabbed my robe and flung it off me, exposing my naked body to all. I
reached down to pick up the knife. I pointed it straight it up, close to my
nose. "I will prove myself to you, my love," I said.

Joel nodded. I wonder -- did he know I was planning to lose? Did he realize
that I was still putting on a show? Did he foresee a good, sweaty fight to
watch before I made a deliberate mistake and let Scully's knife enter my
heart? I suspect he did. This was his way of letting me free. Freedom,
however, would only come with the completion of my role, and there was
only one logical way for my character to exit the stage.

Gratefully, I turned to Scully, hoping she would perform her own role.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

SCULLY

I had been expecting a lot of things when we came here. This wasn't one of
them.

I didn't look at Mulder or Ormus or the naked woman or Joel. I just looked
at the knife. Somehow, I knew that I was going to "win" this fight. Like
everything else at the castle, it felt so theatrical as to be pre-ordained.
For some unfathomable reason, this woman was going to let me kill her. For
some even more unfathomable reason, I had been chosen as the queen of a
new dynasty.

Nope. Not what I had been expecting at all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

MULDER

Shit. Shit. And shit again. This was the word that keep repeating in my mind
as I watched the naked Nazi bimbo take a fighter's stance.

Just plain shit.

We had been hoping that Scully had made a deep enough impression on Joel in
order to weaken the Purifiers' hold on him. That impression had been even
deeper than we thought, despite the brief time he had known her. Maybe it
was simply because Scully had been the first woman to get inside Joel's
psyche.

There was also the fact that everything he said about her was true. Joel was
just smart enough to see Scully was the real deal. Hell, if I were a king...

I turned to Ormus. Why the hell isn't doing something about this? I thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

ORMUS

Oh, Lord, tell me what to do, should I charge at Joel, use my gift against
him, what would happen, I don't know, I just don't know, he might kill me, I
might kill him, should I die, should he die, what should I do, is that what
you intended, is Scully part of your plan, I'm so confused, Lord, and I'm
standing here and I'm watching Scully and now she's bending down...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

SCULLY

I thought about the world I had experienced. I had seen the darkest side of
humanity reflected in the corruption of high office and in the private acts
of cruelty done by single men. Not only had I witnessed it, I had
experienced it. This evil had touched me so many times. The one thing I had
never been able to do was fight back with any real power. I had faith and a
belief in justice and a badge and Mulder, but not power like the one I was
being offered now.

God, your son was once offered a worldly kingdom. All he had to do was
worship the devil, an offer he declined. Now, the devil was giving me a
similar opportunity.

What was going through the mind of your son at the time? Would the devil
have come if he hadn't believed that it was possible to seduce Jesus? Did
Christ consider the possibilities before he made his decision?

Or was all that just theater? Was it a ritual with an outcome already
decided?

Was it just a story? I have heard things, God -- rumors and tales that the
New Testament is not as accurate as it pretends to be. Was your son truly
divine and holy and good?

Should I even bother to pray?

In any case, I am not Jesus. As I looked down at the knife, I saw my
reflection in its blade and I imagined that woman with her own armies at her
command, ready to cleanse the world of its evil. I felt light-headed. I
found myself asking -- would it be wrong *not* to take this chance? Wasn't
Joel destined to be ruler of the world? Shouldn't somebody be there to keep
his regime from becoming too cruel?

Might that person as well be me?

I picked up the knife.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

PART FIFTEEN

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Fuck you and the cross you rode in on!"

                                -- Reverend Jesse Custer

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

JOEL GRAHAM

Scully picked up the knife. She turned to face Andrea.

I took a breath, ready to enjoy the show.

Then Scully looked at me and threw the knife at my feet.

"Screw you," she said. "Come on, guys, let's go."

She headed for the door. Mulder, Ormus and Andrea all looked as bewildered
as I was. "What are you doing?" I shouted.

"I'm leaving this goddamn porno film," she replied. She tried to open the
door. When the doorknob resisted her, she demanded a key.

For a few sputtering moments, I couldn't find any words. Finally, I settled
on "Just who do you think you are?"

"A better person than you are, geek."

That last word seemed to catapult me out of the castle and back into high
school. I was no longer Herr Graham, but Joel the failure in gym class, Joel
the shy one, Joel the young man who masturbated to fantasies of bodily
harm...

I strode across the floor, daring Ormus and Mulder to get in my way. They
didn't. That should have told me something.

I grabbed Scully by the arm, forcing her to turn around. "Don't you dare..."
I started to say.

She slapped me in the face.

I could have turned her to dust right then. I could have covered her body
with sores. I could have penetrated her brain and reduced her to a drooling
idiot.

I did none of these things. I just rubbed my hurting cheek and stood fixed
in my spot as Scully spoke to me.

"You know, I actually tried to feel sympathy for you? Because it used to be
that on some level you knew what you did was wrong. Well, you
have left that point way behind you, my Fuhrer. You have become a big,
blonde-haired dickhead. You can do your magic, you can shout orders at
your armies, you can wave your penis around all you want, but that's who
you are and all you ever will be."

I have dreamt about aggressive women, but nothing like this. My dream women
had all confronted me on a physical level. Scully, on the other hand, was
attacking me where it hurt even deeper. She was going after the truth.

"You have changed in your body, Joel, but here -- " She jabbed a finger into
my chest. " -- here you are just the same, if not worse. And you know it."

I did. I looked down at the floor between us.

"Now, Mulder and I and Schwartz are going to leave. Then we're going to come
back with a big old army that's going to try to blow up you and every damn
Purifier in this castle. There's a very good chance that you'll kill us. And
then you'll kill even more. You'll pile up the bodies to high heaven. Once
that's done, I want you to smell that stench and ask yourself -- did I have
the right to do this? Does anybody have the right?"

It was then that I thought about my parents. If they saw me right now, would
they think any less of me than Scully?

Did I think any less?

I wandered away from Scully, feeling her cold eyes on me. I sat down on the
bed and looked at my muscles. They now seemed as ridiculous as Andrea's
cosmetically-altered body.

For the first time, I thought about the person I was.

And then for the first time in years, I cried. God, how pathetic I must have
seemed to the other people in this room -- this little Aryan god weeping
with self-pity.

Then I felt hands touching me, caressing me on the shoulders. "It's all
right," a voice said. "It'll be all right."

I turned to see Andrea Hess with her robe back on. She was giving me a look
that I had never expected to see from her.

Kind.

Understanding.

Sympathetic.

"I think...it's time to close down the show, Joel," she said.

I sniffed and wiped my eyes. "I wish it was that easy," I replied.

Then, for the first time since he stepped into the room, Ormus spoke. "I can
make it easy," he said, sounding more relieved than anybody I ever met. "We
can make it easy for both of us."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

MULDER

"What the hell happened?"

"What does it look like?" Scully said. "It ended. It's over."

What I could see exactly was the castle being taken over by Schwartz's
platoons. Scully and I were on the outside as the Purifiers were being
rounded up.

"Come on, Scully. It can't be over."

"What did you expect to happen? An armed invasion? The castle to get blown
up? Would you have wanted me to go one-on-one with Andrea?" She smiled at
me. "Please, Mulder. That's just guy-fantasy."

"Yeah, but...why did Joel just fall apart like that?"

"Because I did what you suggested. I told him the truth."

"He didn't have to accept it. Nobody was making him believe it."

"That's why he did believe it."

Schwartz came across the drawbridge with troops bustling around him and
leading their prisoners away. In the midst of all this activity, he looked
calm -- almost serene.

He strode up to us. "Well...I need to thank you. Your involvement in this
was an accident, but a happy one. Without your help...let's just say the
future could have been unpleasant for all of us."

"Is that a promise?" I asked.

Schwartz considered that question and said, "I can promise you it will be a
future without the involvement of Healers and Warriors. I'm dissolving the
two groups."

Now, that certainly surprised me and Scully. "Wait. Just like that?"

"No. Not just like that. It will take a lot of pushing and pulling on my
part. I'm sure that it will make a lot of people unhappy, but..." He smiled.
"...I am Ormus. And they granted to me the final decision on this matter.
Judging from this..." He indicated the castle. "...I would say that it's
time for the two groups to break up."

Schwartz saw the perplexed look on my face. "What's with you, Agent Mulder?"

"I just...it seems odd that two groups as old as Healers and Warriors could
just...end. Right now."

Schwartz smiled. "Everything ends. And now is a good time for this
particular cause to be laid to rest."

"You've been considering this for a long time, haven't you?" Scully asked.

"A long...long time," Schwartz sighed.

A soldier marched up to Schwartz. "All the Purifiers have been taken in
custody, Ormus. All except for Joel Graham and the woman. What do you want
done with them?"

"They are my responsibility. Take the rest into quarantine."

The soldier nodded and left us.

"What are you going to do with Andrea and Joel?" I asked.

"Make sure they never bother anyone else. And Joel is going to help with a
couple of matters."

"That is?"

Schwartz lifted his eyebrows. "Have a little faith, Mulder. It will all work
out fine."

Then he held out his hand. I looked at it for a moment, then shook it.
Scully did the same. As he shook her hand, Schwartz looked at the crucifix.
After releasing Scully's hand, he reached up and touched it.

"This means a lot to you, doesn't it?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Yes," she replied in an equally soft voice. "It does."

Schwartz examined the crucifix for a long time.

Finally, he said, "I haven't told you everything, but...nothing I know
changes what this means. I promise."

With that, he nodded to us and walked away. Scully and I were given a ride
to the airport. We never saw Schwartz, Andrea or Joel ever again.

But you kinda figured that out already, didn't you?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

JOEL GRAHAM

Should I be punished for what I did? Probably.

But I'm not sure.

I look back at the man who hurt those women and I wonder who he was. I look
at the person who was ready to anoint himself king of the world and can't
remember his name. I feel so distant from that man's confusion and
brutality.

Yet that person was me.

Schwartz has assured me it's for the best that I stay out-of-sight.
"Awareness of your existence could open up a big can of shit," he told me.

"What about those women I hurt?

"They'll have to live with what you did to them, yes. But..." He sighed.
"...this is the best decision we can make. And if life has taught me
anything else, it's that you have to often settle for the best you can get."
He placed his hands on my shoulder. "You should feel guilty for what you
did, Joel. However, believe me when I say that you're not irredeemable. I
have seen far worse than what you have done. I have done worse. My advice
is...let it go."

I let out a breath and nodded.

"Now," Schwartz said. "You and I have to get some work done."

"What's that?"

For the next few months, Schwartz and I traveled all over the world. We
made secret visits to everyone who had come from the same bloodline as
I did. Using our gift, we did a little adjustment on every person who could
have the 'Merovingian gene' or could pass it down. We made sure that the
gene was completely deactivated and rid from the human biology forever.

After we finished, that left just the two of us.

"I know," Schwartz said. He lifted his hands up to me. I noticed they were
trembling. "Joel...if you would..."

I placed my hands against his. In the contact point between our skins, there
was a tingling sensation. It lasted for a few seconds. When it stopped, we
both lowered our hand and knew that the gift had been rid from our bodies.

Schwartz closed his eyes and kept them closed for a long time.

Then he started to cough. It was a loud, retching sound. He bent over and I
rubbed him on the back until he was done.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"I'm...I'm fine," he said. He slowly straightened his back out like he was
an old man.

"Well...I guess that's it."

"Yeah. That is it. That is finally it."

"So, I'm guessing you'll be shipping me off now."

He nodded.

"I want to say that I'm grateful for this second chance. And trust me. I'll
keep my head down. I'm pretty content to be by myself..."

Schwartz smiled. "Who says that you'll be by yourself?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

PART SIXTEEN

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"All I want is a room somewhere
"Far away from the cold night air
"With one enormous chair.
"Oh, wouldn't it be loverly?"

                                   -- Eliza Doolittle

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I suppose we make an odd-looking couple.

Here we are, a nineteen-year-old American and a thirty-year-old German in a
tiny English village. A lot of the locals must wonder just how we got
together and what we are doing here. Still, no one asks questions. It's a
very laid-back community, willing to let small mysteries go unnoticed.

Like Joel, I have my own guilt to confront and my own past to deal with. It
doesn't matter than I'm no longer the blonde beast of before. Before he
lost his gift, Joel restored me to my previous physical form. (He hasn't
told me how he lost his gift. He just smiles and says, "I owe it someone to
keep a secret.") I now see a chubby body and plump cheeks in the mirror, but
I still remember the lean dominatrix I had been before. Shouldn't that
person be punished for what she did? Do Joel and I have the right to live a
normal existence with no one ever knowing about our past sins?

I think about this and then I remember how Joel wrote a letter to his
parents. "I just want you to know that I'm fine," he told them. "There's no
need to worry about me." He went on to explain that they never did anything
wrong in the raising of him. "It was just me."

Could this be the same man who tortured women in hotel rooms? Is it possible
that was just a fevered dream from which he has woken? If he hasn't found
sanity, has he found decency?

Is it right for me to love him?

I ponder these questions over and over again. Over and over again, I realize
that I can't find answers. However, I feel certain that we receive some kind
of judgment. Whatever that judgment it is, I will accept it with no
complaints.

In the meantime, I will be grateful for the life I have in this English
village, living quietly off the money Ormus gave us and starring with Joel
in the occasional local theater production.

I am also grateful to Ormus for the chance he gave us. I wonder about him
and where he is now. The last time I saw him, he didn't look well.
Physically, I mean. Despite the sickness, though, he looked happy.

I hope he has found the same happiness he gave to me and Joel.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

ORMUS

One time, I just asked my father point-blank, "Tell me...what really
happened? Who fathered me and Jude?"

My father looked back at me with an face that was inexpressive even for him.
"I have never found proof that your mother's story was false," he said. "I'm
not interested in finding any and neither should you." Then he went back to
smoothing a plank of wood.

I never asked him about it again. Nor did I ever refute my mother whenever
she spoke of how Jude and I were "created by Yahweh." I just gave her an
indulgent smile. For the general public, I never substantiated the story. Of
course, I never denied it, either. It didn't hurt my campaign for some
people to think I was a miracle. However, I never believed it any more than
the stories about my brother.

That is, until I found myself in a tomb with my brother standing beside
me. I was lying in a rock alcove. My brother was tearing something off me. I
recognized it as a burial shroud.

The first word out of my mouth was "What?"

"Shhh," Jude said.

"Where...where am I?"

"Quiet. The guards are knocked out, but I don't want to attract any
attention."

I looked at my brother. Daylight pouring in through the entrance enabled me
to see him. His skin was pale and sweat dripped from his forehead.

"You don't look well," I told him.

He laughed in a way that I had never heard before from him. It was almost
bitter and mocking. "Well, brother, you've been dead for a few hours so I
wouldn't be talking."

That's when I remembered...the nails...the blood...the sudden black-out when
Jude had touched me...

I wailed. Jude clamped his hand over my mouth. "Be quiet!" he ordered. "Now,
we have to go!"

In a daze, I left the tomb with Jude. I didn't come out of that daze for a
month. Too much had happened to me and I had learned many strange things. I
spent all that time in India. Mary, Barabbas and Jude were also in India at
the time, but I didn't see them. I just wanted to be alone. I had too much
to think about.

It took me awhile before I finally went to visit Jude. This was after I had
made a little discovery about myself.

"I have your gift," I told him.

Jude nodded. "And I no longer have it," he said. "Somehow, it must have
shifted to you after I...I healed you."

"But how is that possible?"

He shrugged. "Maybe you were destined to have it."

I shook my head furiously. "No. I will not take this from you." I reached up
to touch his cheek. He stepped back.

"I don't want it back," he said. "It never felt...right to have it."

"And it's right for me to have it?"

Jude shrugged again. "That's for you to decide, brother."

It's a strange, confounding moment when you realize that your brother is a
much better man than you are. If I was in his position, I would demand to
have the gift back. Jude, however, never wanted power. He practiced what he
had preached in so many villages and on so many hilltops. He truly believed
it when he said, "Blessed are the peacekeepers."

As I had this moment, I just stood there, looked at my smiling brother and
felt like the unworthiest of fools.

My brother took me by the sleeve. "Come inside," he said, pointing at his
house. "Mary and your son are..."

"No."

"Pardon me?"

"Take care of them. Give love to Mary. I..." Unable to finish, I ran away,
crying for my brother and understanding just how much he had given up for me
and my family. His "betrayal" of me had just been a ruse to save us all from
the armies of Rome. It was then I understood who deserved to raise my son
and be with my wife.

For the next year, I drifted from one country to another. During that time,
I realized that my gift would enable me to live indefinitely. My brother had
given me immortality as casually as a birthday present.

I had to give something in return, right?

I thought about what to do for another long time. I came to a decision and I
made a plan. Years later, I would secretly visit my brother on his deathbed.

When he saw that I was standing by his bed, his weak eyes brightened for a
moment. "Brother..." he whispered.

I clasped him by the hand. He smiled, then he looked at our joined hands in
fear. "No...don't..."

"I haven't come to heal you, Jude. I know you don't want that."

He gave me a slight nod. "Mary...have you seen her?"

"No. She doesn't know I'm here. I don't think she should."

Jude sighed. "If you think...if you think that's best..."

"I know you have raised a fine family, brother. You have many wonderful
children and grandchildren."

"It is...our duty to God...to raise them well."

"I agree. We must look after the future." I leaned down to him. "That's
what I shall do."

Jude looked at me, unsure. "What are you saying..."

"You are a great man, Jude. Your vision of the world is a great one. I will
see to it that your teachings will live long after you're gone."

"You need not...worry about my teachings. If they are the
truth...then...they will survive."

I smiled and squeezed his hand. "Brother, you have always admitted that I am
the realistic one. Believe me now when I say that great things are lost very
easily. Truth can be swept away and become dust in the wind."

He looked at me as if he wanted to say something, but didn't know how. He
closed his eyes. I spoke right into his ear.

"I will ensure that no one forgets what you said. And I will see to it that
your future generations will be recognized as kings and queens. This is what
God wants me to do. This is my destiny. And I will fulfill it."

Jude said nothing. He was breathing still, but he had faded away into a
limbo between consciousness and sleep. I kissed him once on the cheek before
I left.

If he had been stronger, what would he have said? That I was making a
mistake? That his teachings would have survived even without my
intervention? That I was wrong to create an empire in tribute to a man who
never wanted a worldly kingdom?

I never considered these possibilities then. It was only much later. Much,
much later. Starting with a little shenanigan I pulled on a man who
was traveling to Damascus, I became a shadow along history's path. I helped
to create a church which preached my brother's wisdom but invoked my name. I
became a counselor to rulers and generals. My gift enabled me to change my
features, allowing no one to know my secret. Often, I felt within an inch of
achieving my goal of a family dynasty.

The disappointments and failures piled up, however. I had created a lasting
religion based on my brother's teachings, but I witnessed its
ineffectiveness time and time again. I also frequently resorted to the
expedient, bloody tactics my brother mourned.

Maybe I could have consolidated power by exposing my secret to the world. I
wanted none of that, though. I had no desire to be a king of this world.

I became wearier and wearier. When I learned about Joel Graham, I knew it
had to stop.

And it has.

Now, I'm in this hotel room in Jerusalem. I can feel myself slipping away.
It's as if all the diseases and wounds I have withstood over the centuries
are overcoming me. I lie on the bed, unable to move, my head turned to look
out at the city and the land I was born in.

I wonder if I did the task required of me. Was this what God wanted? Did he
intend for two brothers -- one healer and one warrior -- to create...
something that promised hope to the world? Or was everything my own
choice?

Was God even responsible for our existence? If Mulder was here, he would
probably conjecture that my mother had been impregnated by aliens or
something. That sounds as good as anything else.

It's also irrelevant. My body is shutting down. I find myself a bit sad that
two thousand years of memories will now disappear. All that experience and
all those stories will go untold. It doesn't seem...

It doesn't seem right...

The room is so quiet. I can hear cars and people talking outside. I wonder
who will find my body. Could they imagine who died in this hotel room?

Nobody particularly important, I would say.

I can't feel my body. My eyes are open and I can still see, but the light is
getting fuzzy.

I find myself remembering the last steak I ate.

Then I die.

I'm dead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

PART SEVENTEEN

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"'We're--we're going to Paradise now?" said
Constant. "I--I'm going to get into Paradise?'

"'Don't ask me why, old sport,' said Stony,
'but somebody up there likes you.'"

                            -- closing part of "The Sirens of Titan"

                                by Kurt Vonnegut

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mulder was sitting in his chair when Scully poked her head into the basement
office. "Mulder, I'm heading on home. See you tomorrow."

Mulder said nothing. He didn't even look at Scully. He just stared at the
pen being rolled around in his hand.

"Mulder? Did you hear me?"

Still no response. Scully walked into the office, purse held in front of her
with both hands. "Mulder?"

Finally, Mulder looked up at her. "You're going to come in tomorrow?" he
asked.

"Uh, yes. Yes, I am."

"You're going to just walk in through that door like it's just another
nine-to-five job? That we just have regular ol' work days around here?"

Scully sat on the edge of Mulder's desk and placed her purse next to her
side. "Can you think of a better way?"

Mulder rolled the pen around in his hands for a few more seconds, then threw
it across the room. "We had something," he muttered. "We had something big
right in front of us. We should have found out what it was."

"Mulder, it may not matter what Schwartz's secret was."

"You mean Ormus."

"Whoever he was, he kept his word. Have you seen the news? A lot of the
important people who are either Healers or Warriors are leaving their
positions in government or business. The groups are dissolving, just like he
said they would."

"That only means the world will be none the wiser."

Scully looked away. She brushed her finger across her crucifix. Then she
turned to Mulder and said, "I believed him when he said that he had no great
secrets for us. I think he was as confused by the mysteries of life as we
were. Maybe more so."

"Well, I'm getting a little sick and tired of mysteries."

"Mulder, that's like saying you're tired of being alive. Or being human."

He rocked back in his chair a few times, then he looked up at her and said,
"Point taken."

"Of course, some mysteries should be solved. And that's why I come here."

"And here I thought you just wanted to bask in the glow of my charisma."

A tiny little laugh left Scully's throat. She reached over and rubbed Mulder
on the shoulder. "Good night," she told him, then stood up, picked up her
purse and headed for the door. Mulder let her walk a few steps before he
asked --

"You're going to church this Sunday?"

She turned around, surprised. "Uh, yes. Why do you ask?"

"Mind if I tag along?"

She gave him another surprised look. "Are you sure you want to?"

He shrugged. "I don't think it will kill me."

A smile appeared on Scully's face. "I'll take that as a epiphany for you,
Mulder."

He grinned back at her. He was still grinning when she left.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hello, brother."

"J-J-Jude?"

"Yes. It's been a long time since we last met."

"Ah...yes...I..."

"In case you're wondering, you are dead."

"Oh. Right. Yes."

"It was long overdue, I would say."

"Hmmm."

"Come along. There is somewhere to go now."

"Wait a moment. How do I know..."

"This isn't just the hallucination of a dying man?"

"Something like that, yes."

"It could be. But that doesn't mean it's not real."

"That's ridiculous. How could it be real and imaginary at the same time?"

"It's a strange world, brother."

"Huh. Well...it is. Yes, it is."

The two brothers start to laugh. With an arm over the other's shoulder, they
walk into a light.

Or something like that.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX