Summary: Who was Kevin Kryder, really?
Timing: A companion piece to Season 3, Episode 11 "Revelations" and references earlier episodes as well.
FAITH
"Maybe I'll see you again sometime."
"You will."
Two simple words from a boy who seemed to have gone from a typical if troubled youth to a young man wise beyond his years practically overnight.
Two simple words that haunted her.
On top of that, a man who rigidly stuck to his beliefs no matter how many other explanations presented themselves had all but poo-pooed something that in Dana's mind was far more ancient, far more organic, than UFOs and aliens. Why, she kept asking herself, does he not even seem to care that I'm so affected by this?
That was truly the crux of the problem. It was why she'd sought refuge at the church, in the confessional. That she had always had her faith in God was undeniable. That she had strayed from the Catholic Church was irrefutable. That she had never stopped believing had come as a surprise.
Had Owen Jarvis been an incorruptible?
Had Gates been a servant of the devil?
Was Dana herself, as Kevin claimed and as Mulder had asked her, sent to protect a very special boy? And what – or who – was Kevin Kryder?
She didn't know. But perhaps the priest had been correct – that the reason only Dana had seen what she had seen was because these miracles had been for her eyes alone.
That night, as she laid in her own bed, in her apartment, with Queequeg snoring lightly near her feet, Dana supposed the Father's explanation made the most sense. After all, God chooses to whom He will reveal Himself, and how and why. Maybe Dana had indeed strayed too far from the church. Could He have been trying to shepherd her back to its hallowed halls?
Or was it something else?
After all, there'd been many times over the past six years that God would've had ample opportunity to show her a miracle in order to bring her back to what Dana admitted was nothing more than an institution. That she'd been raised Catholic and had known nothing but that particular religion didn't mean she saw her faith as starting and ending with Catholicism.
When her father had died suddenly, he could've been spared.
When Melissa had been shot, a miracle would have been her survival. Proof of God to a woman who'd strayed from the flock.
When Dana herself had been abducted, some kind of miracle could have occurred to result in her not having been taken…by the rogue Dr. Zama or by Duane Barry to begin with.
She had told the priest that maybe God was speaking, but no one was listening. Had she not been listening? Had she been too caught up in her career, in making it in the Boys' Club, in doing her best in med school and the FBI? Had Mulder's personal tragedies and quests further made her stray off-course? Or had she lost her way on her own well before encountering him and his wild theories?
Queequeg whimpered in his sleep. She wondered if he was dreaming about eating his former owner Mrs. Lowe's entrails…a grotesque footnote to the strange case of Clyde Bruckman that'd convinced Dana she should keep the dog rather than turn him in to a shelter with human remains in his belly.
"Maybe I'll see you again sometime."
"You will."
She stared up at the ceiling. The darkness seemed to cover her like a shroud. A shroud of Death. Spiraling downward, her thoughts leapt to Betsy Hagopian, dying of an unidentifiable cancer. All those women, so at peace in the belief that they were all dying. And that Dana was, too.
Perhaps that was the reason? Maybe Dana was dying. Whether or not Penny and all the others believed it was related to aliens was irrelevant, for Dana had seen proof of the Truth in the form of what the strange man who'd never given his name had shown her in that train car. She had indeed been subjected to human experiments, and now fully trusted that the MUFON women had been, too. That they'd interpreted their experiences as alien abduction was more a factor of pop culture than it was fact.
If Dana was going to succumb to cancer as a result of what Zama had done to her, then maybe God was trying to shepherd her back. But not to the Church.
To Him.
She made to turn onto her right side but gasped and froze when her eyes lit upon the closed bedroom door. Standing there as clear as a bell was Kevin Kryder. A light shone down from above him – a light that made the whole of him glow.
Slowly Dana sat upright in bed, mystified that Queequeg hadn't stirred, still sound asleep as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
"Kevin?"
The boy smiled widely. He was wearing jeans, sneakers and a striped tee shirt just like any normal kid would be wearing. Yet there was nothing normal about him. As he spread his hands wide and she saw the stigmata appear, she knew that in her bones.
"I told you that you'd see me again."
"How..?" Dana scooted out of bed and came to her feet, her eyes never leaving his. "You aren't really here. You're...you were placed in a foster home."
"Don't lose your faith, Dana."
She frowned. She felt overwhelmed. Her heart was immediately so full it threatened to burst inside her chest. She couldn't take her eyes from him. He couldn't possibly be here.
"You have to believe enough for both you and Fox."
Yet he was.
"You were chosen, Dana. Remember what Clyde Bruckman told you."
Blood dripped from his hands.
She swallowed hard, remembering that moment in the motel room when she'd asked Clyde the question.
"How do I die?"
"You don't."
"Kevin…" Dana shook her head in disbelief, reached out as if to touch him, then thought the better of it. "Who are you?"
"I think you know."
She blinked as his hands continued to drip blood.
"See?" Kevin said, grin still wide. "Someone is listening." He cocked his head at her. Lowered his arms. "You."
She blinked again. He was gone.
"Kevin?"
Dana darted forward and threw her bedroom door wide open.
"Kevin?" she called out frantically, running out into the living room.
Queequeg startled awake at her cries and came to investigate, looking at her like she'd lost her mind.
"He was here," she whispered to the dog, who gave a kind of high-pitched whimper-whine in response.
Turning in a full circle, she realized she and Queequeg were just as alone as they'd been when she'd retired for the night.
"I know he was here."
The dog whined. Dana picked him up, buried her face in his fur and headed back into her room, thumb rubbing his neck.
The phone rang, startling her to the point where her heart was suddenly pounding. She deposited Queequeg on the bed and glanced at the clock as she moved to grab the phone off its cradle. 11:21 pm. She tapped the phone's ON button. "Scully."
"Scully, it's me."
"Mulder?"
Of all the people to call her right now.
"I thought you'd want to hear it from me first."
"Hear what?" Nothing. "Mulder, what's happened?"
"Kevin Kryder is missing from his foster home."
"What?" Dana whirled to face her bedroom door. "It was his first night there!"
"Yeah, I know. I got a courtesy call from Loveland Social Services just a few minutes ago saying Kevin had left a note at the foster home and vanished. Alarm was on, doors and windows all locked. The family's dogs never stirred. He's just gone."
"He left a note?"
"Yeah. All it said was I'll return."
Something on the floor caught her eye. Dana moved to the bedroom door, crouched down and touched the carpet where Kevin had just been standing. Her fingers came away covered in blood.
"Scully, you still there?"
Dana stared at her fingers as she rose back to her full height. "Yeah."
"Are you going to go look for him?"
"Why, are we being called back in on the case?"
"No, I just thought…you know, I mean…you seemed to have a bond or something with Kevin. I thought you'd be worried about him."
Dana looked down at her fingers again, blood now starting to become dry and sticky. "No," she said quietly, feeling wonder and peace and contentment fill her body like warm liquid.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, Mulder, I'm good. Really, I am."
"You're sure."
"I'm sure. I have to go. Queequeg needs to go outside."
The dog cocked his head at her from his spot curled up on the bed as she hung up the phone.
Then a voice came from nowhere. Kevin's voice. "Maybe I'll see you again sometime."
Dana's eyes filled with tears. She looked up at the ceiling. The tears overflowed and rolled down the sides of her face. She smiled. Nodded. "You will," she promised aloud.
Very nearly falling onto the bed in shock, joy and a myriad of feelings she could never hope to describe – let alone share with Mulder – she curled up with her head on the pillow, Queequeg scooting up alongside her for a snuggle. She reached out and placed her hand on his back, allowing the tears to flow.
"I do believe, Kevin," Dana finally said aloud to the ether, then caught sight of the phone she'd not replaced on its cradle.
Mulder.
She closed her eyes. "I believe enough for both of us."