Building Faith

By Ellf

The Past is Prologue

Disclaimer: Jim Butcher owns the Dresden Files, any other works of fiction mentioned are not owned by me.

Every culture has theories about death, about the afterlife. Every major religion speaks about it, falling asleep in the hopes of rising again, visiting the gates of Heaven, being thrown into the depths of Hell. Some say death is an ending, something all living beings must do as their time on this plane of existence comes to an end. Some say death is just the start of a grand new adventure. Some prefer not to speak of death, instead worrying about the day to day, never once giving a thought that they might die.

I had been one of those people, really. I never gave much thought to my own death, to my own mortality, so when my time ran up on my clock, it had been a surprise. Death was short, sudden, impactful, and for the briefest of moments, I felt pain before fading to black. Some say that death is the end, but for me, my death is only the beginning.

I had come to Chicago on a business trip, visiting a vendor to check over some procedures. All had mostly seemed okay, for what they were doing, and after finishing for the day, I was on my way back to my hotel. I can't recall exactly what distracted me. Might have been my cell phone, might have been me dropping something in the car, but distracted driving in Chicago's traffic isn't a mistake that I would live to make twice. I remember hearing a loud crunching noise, and feeling a modicum of pain followed by blackness and a single light.

I wish I could say that this is the point I mention my life flashing before my eyes, that I thought over my sins and that I lived a good life. I wish I could say that in that moment I solemnly knew that everything would be all right, and my family would handle it just fine. Hell, I wish I could say that my last thoughts were of something profound, the deepest words ever thought by a person on Earth.

I really do wish that I could say that, but when your last thoughts are "Damn, now I'm going to have to pay the deductible," something's wrong. No life flashing before my eyes, no intent clarity, just the thought about my rental car and having to pay some money out. Kind of makes me seem cheap, doesn't it?

My entire vision was taken up by darkness. I was either dead, unconscious or blind, and given that I seemed aware and there was a single point of light, none of the three options made much sense. I could still feel, still smell, still see, as that light grew bigger.

And bigger. Why the hell was the light growing? Oh… it wasn't growing. It was moving, and moving toward me. Oh, that couldn't be good.

Then I heard the horn, or perhaps it was a whistle. The shrill sound of an oncoming train echoed around me, and as my eyes adjusted to the area, I could see the tracks I was standing on. I knew that I'd been in my car when I'd gotten hit, and therefore there was no way I could be standing where I was. That didn't stop the train from coming. So there were really three options here. One, I was dead, and the train couldn't hurt me. Two, I was asleep, and the train couldn't hurt me. Three, I was high on something and the train, if actually there could hurt me. Two out of three put my chances at survival from the train at a fairly decent rate.

"What are you, stupid? Get off the tracks!" A man's voice called out to me from the side, shaking me from my reverie and as I got close, he grabbed my shoulders, hauling me off of the tracks with the ease of someone pulling a trash bag. "You don't want to catch that train, kid. It's not going your way."

I watched as the train passed, the acrid smell of sulfur coming to my nose, and the darkened passenger and freight cars passing by at speed. I turned toward my savior to find a blond-haired blue-eyed man dressed in a battered pinstripe suit, clearly used to a position of authority. He had a boxer's build and a strong jawline, and those forearms looked like they could tear me in half. Whoever this was, this was definitely someone I did not want to fuck with.

"… Thank you, sir…" I started to say, but I stopped and frowned at my voice. It sounded a bit off to me, but I couldn't exactly tell why. It probably had something to do with my current situation. If it was a dream, I probably always sounded wrong in my dreams, and if I was dead, I was hearing my spirit talk.

"It was nothing, kid." The man waved off my thanks. He then pulled out a clipboard from under his jacket and flipped through the papers in it. "Oh, that's interesting. You look to be the right person."

"Right person?" I asked, and glanced around. Now that my eyes had fully adjusted, it looked like I was definitely in Chicago, albeit a darker version of it with shadows creeping everywhere. It should have been daytime, but with the sky overcast the way it was, the shadows nosed their way out from the alleyways and up the sides of the buildings. It was as if the shadows were alive, holding the buildings up. The skyscrapers still touched the sky, but the color just seemed faded from them, leached out by the shadows. "Where are we anyway?"

"That doesn't matter… you aren't really supposed to be here at the moment, kid, but someone messed up." The man sounded annoyed. "So, what we're going to have to do is give you a choice. We can send you back, or you can continue on toward your final destination."

Send me back? What did he mean by that? Did he mean that I'd be able to wake up from this weird dream? Where would I be when I woke up? I mean, I was in a car accident.

Might as well ask. "Where exactly is here? And what do you mean by send me back?"

"Here's… we call it the between. It's not quite Heaven, not quite Hell, and while some might call it Purgatory, that's actually a slightly different place. Chicago, but different." He flipped through the papers some more. "As for sending you back, we'll be getting you to your body, and you should be fine for another certain amount of years. Or you could move on, and see what's next for you. Your choice."

This seemed like a no-brainer. I wasn't ready for the beyond, so I'd have to go back. Besides, I probably needed to go to Confession at least once before dying, and I hadn't had the chance here.

"I'll go back." I said, my determination getting through. While the people I had weren't depending on me for anything, they would miss me.

"All right, kid." The man said and then gestured to a car that hadn't been there before. I could see police lights under the roof, and it resembled a Dodge Charger, perhaps about twenty years ago. "Hop in the passenger side."

I nodded. I didn't exactly like that he was calling me kid, but given that we hadn't so much as thought of exchanging names yet, I couldn't fault him. I probably looked a bit younger if I was clean shaven, but I was twenty-eight. I'm still not sure how he could have justified calling me kid save for just as a name replacement.

I climbed in the passenger seat of the cruiser and buckled up. Looking around the interior, I saw a standard issue police radio, along with a set of numbers along the dash indicating either the cruiser number or the man's badge number. Given that he didn't wear a uniform I could only assume he was a detective of some sort. I didn't know his rank though.

"So, how does this work, exactly?" I asked as the detective stepped into the car and started it. "Me going back, I mean."

"Simple enough, kid. I take you to where you need to be to go back, and you follow the instructions. You'll be waking up in no time. Consider yourself lucky." He put the car into drive and headed away from the tracks, downtown. Normally when given a lull in the conversation like this one, I would try to make some small talk, get to know the person sitting next to me, but I wasn't entirely sure even where to start. Between. Chicago between. That tugged at my memory a bit, but for the life of me, or death of me, as the case would be, I couldn't remember.

So instead of talking, I looked out the window of the cruiser, watching the buildings pass. Unlike what I'd seen in regular Chicago, this version was far less crowded, and there was a sense of… something, hiding in the shadows. I'd been a gamer in life, so the atmosphere got to me for a little bit before I saw it. A face hid in the shadows, lurking, watching.

"Don't look at it, kid." The detective spoke up. "Don't even acknowledge it's there. You're safe in here, but… It wants you not to be."

"My name's not kid." I followed his instructions, despite my answer. "And I don't even know yours."

"Call me Jack, kid. And I know your name, but you're a kid compared to me. Thus you get stuck with the nickname. If you stuck around, maybe the name would one-up, but you're on your way back," Jack said and then stopped the car in front of a hospital. "All you need to do is go inside there, and walk down the third wing on your left. You'll be waking up before you know it."

"Third wing, right…" I trailed off as I looked at the door and frowned. I was taking this too passively, but then I'd never really been one for confrontation. If I stepped outside the car, I didn't know what would happen. Would I wake up like a friend of mine had? Unable to walk, fluid drained out of my skull, having to relearn a bunch of things simply due to muscles being unable to be used for a while? Still, I wasn't ready to truly be dead yet. I had so much more I wanted to do.

"Get moving kid. You don't have all of eternity," Jack urged me on, and he was right. I didn't know how long I'd been here already, but it couldn't have been too long.

Gripping the handle, I breathed out a sigh, and pushed it open. Stepping out of the car, I looked around. The Chicago between still encroached on me with its shadowed state, and I had the feeling of being watched by someone other than Jack. Sparrow? No, he looked nothing like a pirate. Anyway, that was a fictional movie, and this was real.

I stepped into the hospital, and it too retained the mood lighting of the outside. The closest analogy I could think of would be a hospital with the lights other than emergency lighting out, only the atmosphere felt more oppressive. I walked into the main lobby, and froze in place for a second, just trying to get my bearings. Wings. I needed to go down one of the wings. It really hadn't been all that long ago that Jack had given me the instructions. Third wing, right? Third wing sounded right.

The door behind me slammed, and the uneasiness I felt grew. I dared not to look back at whatever was behind me. Jack had said to ignore it, to not give it the satisfaction. Easier said than done. I started to push through the pressure, taking a step at a time, and for each step of mine, another echoed behind me.

He kept pace behind me, clearly walking at the same speed I was. I wasn't sure how I knew it was a he, but whatever it was, it was there and male. I'd seen his face in the shadows. In the places I wasn't meant to be. I'd need to get to where I was going, and quickly.

Right. I'd go right. One wing. Too soon. I wouldn't run. Running would just make it chase me rather than simply following behind. It was content to stalk, and I didn't want to provoke it into doing something more. Two wings. All I needed to do was to get down here, and I'd be safe. Woken up, untouched by whatever this experience was. There. Third wing. I'd be fine. All I needed to do was go inside.

"Oh, mortal… are you so certain that you want to leave so soon?" The thing's voice was low, calm, and British. Its voice came out despite what little I'd seen of it. Jack had warned me to ignore it. "You could learn much from me, I think."

Okay. That was it. Time to wake up for real now; its voice just ate at my psyche. There was far more to its voice than simply what I'd heard, and I could feel that. No. It wouldn't touch me, and I wouldn't grant it the satisfaction of answering it. It could stay behind me as I grabbed the handle on the door to the wing.

"Pity. I would seek thee again, soon enough," The thing said as I pulled open the door. No, I wouldn't even listen to it further. I stepped through, eyes closed. It was time to wake up. No more dreams of whatever this was. I couldn't let that happen further.

When I opened my eyes, I was practically blinded by the light, only making out a few fuzzy shapes larger than me. I blinked a few times, and moved my hands, but it felt like my arms were made of lead. I could feel my legs, so that was a good sign, but they seemed to be stuck in something warm and gooey. Then one of the larger shapes came closer to me and moved down toward around my waist, and I kid you not, massive hands grabbed around me and pulled me, lifting me what felt like thirty feet in the air. And then the hand held me upside down, and I heard a snipping noise.

Suddenly I couldn't breathe. Where was the air? Why was this happening to me? Who cut off the oxygen supply? Then another hand struck me across the back and the air came to me. I made a bit of noise, gasping for the air, making sure I could hear myself.

"Congratulations," A man's voice said, probably coming from the large shadow that the hands were attached to. "Twins, and they're both healthy looking."

Twins? Wait… what?

The hands passed me to another set that were far softer, and they held me close. "We certainly weren't expecting twins. I'm not sure how we'll provide for them both."

The voice was kind, caring, and female. Matronly was the word, but she also sounded young.

Another voice cut in, a second masculine one that came out a bit deeper. "Have faith. The Lord will provide for us."

"Faith…" The woman holding me said, and my eyes focused on her blurry shape. I could see her eyes now, as she looked into mine. They were a brilliant shade of blue, and I could see the kindness in them, the love. "Now, that's a good name for you, isn't it? Molly and Faith, our beautiful twin girls…"

Well. Fuck.