Author: Romana Clef (romanac@hotmail.com)
Title: Midnight of the Century
Spoilers: Millennium
Archiving: Go for it
Disclaimers: Of course.
Summary: Millennium post-ep.  Faith, hope, and love.
Feedback: Divine
 

She was so beautiful at the most unexpected times.  Like now, injured
and fluorescent-lit, with televised festivities shining in her eyes.
He leaned down toward her.  She tilted her head up to meet him.

They kissed.  Warm.  Soft.  Light.  Longer than is customary for just
greeting the new year.  Or even the new millennium.

When they parted, she smiled.  He had been prepared for anything.  He
had imagined this so often in the past few months, imagined every
different outcome so often, that even the worst possibilities ceased
to hold any pain.  He was so sick of thinking about it, he just wanted
to know what she would do.  If she slapped him, fine.  If the gates of
her eyes shut against him and she put on her professional face, fine.
He would live through it, so would she, and at least they would
finally both *know*.

But the smile was what he'd been hoping for all along.  "The world
didn't end," he said.

"No, it didn't."

Maybe it could have, though.  That's the part that she didn't say, the
part that made her look so serious now.  He knew it had to be weighing
on her.  He wished that she could have forgotten it for just a few
minutes more.  This respite, this moment of celebration, was even
briefer than most, and it was such an important milestone...  But it
wouldn't be like her to forget.

So when they walked out, he kept his hand on her shoulder, and halfway
through the parking lot he was unexpectedly rewarded by a little
squeeze from her and a few moments of her arm curled across his lower
back.  He smiled down at her again, but she was preoccupied, watching
the jingling keys in her hand.

They reached the cars.  She hesitated between the two cars.  "Mulder,
I know you're probably really tired, so feel free to say no.  But I
was wondering, if you would come with me somewhere?  There's something
I have to do, and I would just... I'd like to have you there with me.
But you don't have to --"

"-- Of course I'll go with you," he interrupted before she could start
changing her mind and taking it back.  "Where are we going?"

She just tilted her head toward her car, and went around to unlock the
door for him.

Of course I'll go with you, Scully.  Anywhere.

><><><><><><><><

On the silent drive through the city, he tried not to stare at her.
He was mostly unsuccessful, but she didn't seem to mind.  A few times
he thought he caught her watching him out of the corner of her eye,
and maybe she blushed, but it was probably just the reflection of the
traffic light.

She was beautiful by traffic light, too.  That wasn't the main reason
he was staring at her -- he was staring at her to try and read her.
There was a time when he hadn't scrutinized her that way.  He never
used to bother trying to divine her thoughts; there didn't seem to be
any need.  Agent Scully was pretty outspoken, and if she had an
opinion, she didn't hesitate to share it.  Loudly, confidently, and
supported by ten types of facts and statistics.  It had taken him
years to discover that there was another whole layer of things that
went completely unsaid.  Or maybe it just took him years to *care*
about that layer.

He cared now.  Wherever they were going, it was fine by him, because
he was almost guaranteed to learn something about Scully by going
there.

When they pulled up to the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception,
second thoughts kicked in.

He followed her inside.  She still hadn't said anything.  Damn.  He
couldn't spoil this, he would do almost anything not to spoil this,
but he would not go to mass.  Not even when it was the first thing
she'd asked of him after they... oh, this was bad.  Oh, damn...

But she didn't head in to the sanctuary to join the ongoing midnight
worship.  Instead, she crept quietly to a staircase off to the side,
motioning him to join her.  They hopped the velvet rope that blocked
off the stairs, and descended.  He could hardly see at the bottom of
the stairs.  She pushed open a heavy wooden door, quietly and slowly.
As soon as it was wide enough to admit a person they both slipped
through, and she closed the door just as slowly.  There was a moment
of pitch blackness before she fished out her pocket mag light.  She
crept through this lower level as wary as if she were stalking a
killer.  The small beam of her light illuminated flickers of gold and
colored gleams of marble, but he couldn't get a real sense of the
space they were in.  They passed between pillars and gates.

As near as he could tell -- and he was getting really confused now,
and intrigued -- she seemed to be looking for a hiding place where
they wouldn't be seen from any of the entrances.  She must have found
something to her satisfaction because she pulled him in behind her,
into a little niche between a wall and some columns.

They stood there for a moment or two before she shone the flashlight
over him, traversing his arm in its sling and moving up to his face.
There was no hiding his bemused expression.

Something in her crumpled.  "Oh Mulder, this was a terrible idea.  I'm
sorry I dragged you out here.  You ought to be home resting in bed.
Let's --"

"-- What?  What's a terrible idea?"

"No.  It's stupid."

"No, it's not.  Tell me."  He felt for the marble bench that he
thought he had seen off to the side, and sat down.  He tried to look
as comfortable as possible, waiting to coax that answer out of her.

She handed him the flashlight.  The little movements of her hands
hinted at several false starts before she finally talked. "Okay.  You
know what my first thought was, when Frank Black started talking about
the Millennium group's beliefs about the apocalypse?  I thought, 'No,
there's not going to be any religious-based armageddon today.  If
there were, I would know.'  Can you believe that, Mulder?  I honestly
thought -- no, felt -- that such a thing could not happen without my
knowledge.  Without me having some sort of premonition or message
or... I mean, who do I think I am?"

She looked at him as if she actually expected an answer.  He didn't
know what to say.  He would have found it funny, Scully's incredible
guilt over her little moment of self-importance, if it weren't so
important to her.  She was so upset.

He never answered, so she continued.  "I know I've seen things.  I
know you and I might disagree about what those things mean, but I know
what I've seen --"

"-- That's my line, Scully."

She looked confused at the interruption.  "You know, my line?  'I know
what I've seen'?  I'm sorry that I ever gave you reason to use it back
at me.  I'm sorry I wasn't more respectful when you tried to tell me
about some of those things.  After some of the things that you and I
have seen recently, I'm a little more open-minded."

"How much more open can one man get, Mulder?"  He couldn't resist
shining the light at her face to see the tiny smile he heard in her
voice.

"I'm afraid we're probably going to find out."

"Anyway... I know that I've had some experiences that have renewed my
faith, experiences that suggest that maybe God has some purpose for
me... but where do I get off thinking that I deserve some sort of
special notification of the end of the world?  And then the dead
men... I just wasn't prepared for them.  I don't know what to make of
them.  I don't know what they mean.  They frighten me.  But even so,
even so when I was asking Frank Black what he thought, what it meant,
I still knew that I already had the answer inside me.  But what if I'm
fooling myself?

What I mean is, I have a lot to think about.  And I wanted to come
here, but I wanted to be alone.  I mean, not *alone* alone, otherwise
I wouldn't have invited you... but I didn't want anyone else to
interrupt me.  So I thought I'd hide out here and wait until they
locked up for the night.  It was silly.  I don't know what I thought
you'd do the whole time -- maybe balance your checkbook or play
solitaire or something."  Her voice was warmer now, laughing at
herself a little, but without bitterness.

"Did you bring a deck of cards for me?"

"No.  But the really silly thing is, I realize now that if we wait
until they lock up, we're going to be locked down here in the Crypt
Church until morning.  You're in no shape for that.  We should go."

"No, I'm okay.  A little cold, maybe, but other than that... I think
we should stay."

"Really?"

"Really.  We both have a lot to think about."  He stood up.

She took her jacket off and wrapped it around his shoulders.  "Try not
to bust the seams, okay?"  She rested her hands on his chest for a
moment, and he took the opportunity to hold one hand in his.

"You won't be cold?"

"No, I have a long-sleeve shirt on."

They moved back to the hiding place and Mulder turned the flashlight
off.

"Mulder, this really is a stupid idea I had."  Her voice floated out
of the darkness.  "There's so much valuable artwork down here, of
course they're going to come down and look around.  They'll find us
and kick us out."

"Hush, we're staying.  I'm intrigued now."

"Oh, well, in that case..."

They both laughed, just a little breath of laughter, and waited in the
dark.

><><><><><><><><

After a few minutes of silence, they were rewarded by a grating thunk
from the direction of the door they had entered.  By unspoken
agreement, they both stood still a while longer.  Soon there was
another thunk from the other side.  They waited.  Finally she nudged
him and he turned the flashlight on.

"Well, here we are," she said.  You wouldn't need Mulder's extensive
experience in Scully studies to see that she was a little embarassed,
with her arms crossed and her gaze downcast.  He held his breath,
searching for just the right thing to say to reassure her, to make her
not regret sharing what she had shared with him.

The right words didn't come to mind.  She gently took the flashlight
from his hand and walked toward the north end of the church.  He
followed, imagining that in the set of her shoulders and bend of her
head he could already see her closing off and shutting him out.
Please, not that.

She started lighting candles.  The wall of the church was one altar
after another, and as the candle flames bloomed, the grandeur of the
place was revealed to him.  Mosaics and enameled tiles, statuary and
carvings, gold and alabaster...  The artwork was so sumptuous, so
pervasive and varied, that it was almost too much.  Almost.  By
candlelight, it was magnificent.

If tonight was anything to go by, it was going to be a very strange
millennium.

"Hey, do you want me to start on the other side?"

Okay, they weren't immortal words of love, but they worked well
enough, because she didn't look sad or grim when she turned around.
"Sure, if you wouldn't mind."

He took a taper and moved to the eastern wall.  Bronze plaques
identified each saint, for unbelievers like him who couldn't tell them
by the strange objects they carried or the symbols in the mosaics
surrounding them.  Saint Brighid, Saint Margaret of Antioch, Saint
Catherine of Alexandria.  Saint Susanna, Saint Lucy, Saint Anne.
Saint John the Evangelist.  They met in the middle at the shrine of
the Good Shepard.

"Scully, they *are* going to unlock the doors in the morning, aren't
they?"

"They must.  There's a huge service upstairs at noon tomorrow.  I'm
sure they'll want to allow people access to these chapels."  But as
sure as she claimed to be, her hand started creeping up the marble
pillar in a buried-under-tons-of-rock nervous sort of way and she
looked up at the ceiling.

"Relax.  If these things work in the Metro, they must work down here."
He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and hit the speed dial
for her number.  Her phone rang in the pocket of her jacket at his
hip.

She jumped a little, then found her phone and took it back from him.
"Good to know.  If you get lost back there at Our Lady of Lourdes,
call me and I'll come find you."

"I just might get lost in here.  This place is amazing.  I never even
knew it was here."

"It is amazing.  That's why I wanted to come here.  So, I'm just going
to be sitting here for a while," she pointed to the front row of pews
behind a huge carved stone block, "And I don't know what you're going
to do."  She looked sheepish again.  "What are you going to do,
anyway?"

"Don't worry about me."  He smiled at her, trying his hardest to
charm, hoping to draw out another smile from her like the one she gave
him back at the hospital.

It worked.  He was exhilarated.  He had to turn away before he was
even halfway sated by her glorious, brilliant smile, because he wasn't
sure that he was ready for her to see how insanely happy that smile
made him.

He might be the more open of the two of them, but that was only
relative.

When he reached the back row of pews, he turned back for one more
glance, to see her slowly kneel behind the first pew, her hands
resting on its back.  She was a slim figure all in black, crowned with
poppy-bright hair.  He left her alone to her thoughts, and stole a
candle from Saint Brighid to go explore the back of the church.

The southern end was all chapels, each one semi-enclosed, each more
ornate than the last.  To amuse himself, he lit every candle he could
find and read every last informational plaque and every posted prayer.
Our Lady of Bistrica.  Our Lady Queen of Peace.  Our Mother of Africa.
Our Lady of Lourdes, just as Scully had said.  Our Lady of Brezje.
His midnight escapade was going to cost the archdiocese a fortune in
beeswax.  He would have to leave an offering before they left in the
morning.

It took him two hours to complete the circuit.  By then his eyes were
grainy with fatigue and his feet were sore, but he felt calm.  He
understood the appeal of churches; he'd visited them before.  He'd
always felt kind of like an interloper, then.  It helped to have
Scully here.

He wanted to respect her privacy, but he needed to check up on her.
He wove around the statues and through the decorative gates to return
to the central area with the pews.  She wasn't kneeling anymore.  She
was sitting in the aisle with her legs curled under her, her shoulder
leaning on the pew.  She was so small, and something in her posture
was so sad...

He couldn't go talk to her.  That would be pushing things way too far.

He returned to Lourdes -- she had velvet-padded benches.  He lay back
on one and put his feet up.

He couldn't even remember now why he had acted so dismissive whenever
Scully had tried to talk about anything religious.  Oh, he remembered
why he *felt* dismissive, alright.  He was feeling it even now.  In
the back of his mind, he was suspicious of the peace here.  In his
darkest hours he craved it, but he usually felt cheap after he
indulged in it, as if he'd allowed himself to be lulled by pretty
lies.  That was *his* problem.  Why had he tried to make it Scully's
problem?

Okay, Mulder, you're the master profiler -- have a go at it.  Maybe
you were so dependent on her that you refused to admit she had any
autonomy.  Maybe you were jealous of sharing her with God.  Maybe
you're a smug bastard who's always convinced that he has the right
answer, and were magnanimously trying to overlook Scully's little
lapse in spiritual logic.

He sighed.  All of these were good guesses.  He was so thankful
(thankful to whatever) that his prior attitude hadn't caused any
permanent damage.  If it had, Scully would never have brought him
here.  He still had time.  Time to discover what she felt and
believed.  Time to try to understand it, even if he didn't share it.

><><><><><><><><><

He must have fallen asleep.  He was dangerously close to rolling off
the little bench.  His watch said 4:30 AM.  His bandaged arm was
completely cramped, so he ditched the sling.  Stretching pulled at the
wound, but felt good otherwise.

He went to check on Scully again.  She was still sitting in the aisle
in front of the giant block of an altar, looking hunched and
miserable.  Or maybe she was just tired.

He couldn't stay away this time.  He walked up the aisle slowly,
giving her time to register his presence.  Yes, she *was* sad.  He
could see her wiping away tears.

He sat a little behind her, taking up her previous position of leaning
on the pew.  He was surprised beyond words when she scooted back to
rest against him.  It was an awkward ballet as they bumped elbows and
almost butted heads, until she was resting securely in his arms, her
head nestled under his chin.

Surely she could hear how loud his heart was pounding.  He ran his
thumb over the velvet skin of her face, finding the remnants of her
tears.

"Hey, what's so terrible?"

"It's nothing, nothing that I can explain."

"Okay, you don't have to."

She was so warm in his arms.  How strange it was to do this when no
one's life was in immediate danger.  Neither one of them was going to
pass out right away... should he talk to her?  Should he kiss her
again?  His fingers tangled in her hair, then brushed over the shell
of her ear.  When he brought his hand back down, she put her hand in
his.  Not a quick, hard squeeze, the way they usually clasped hands.
She rested her hand there.  He ran his thumb over her fingers, and she
did the same to his.

Beneath the wash of sensation, he was still thinking, trying to figure
out how to be what she wanted from him.

No, that was totally wrong.  What devoured him these days was a desire
to know Scully as she really was.  Why would he think she wanted
anything less from him?  What he wanted was to kiss her again, as
reckless as that might be.  The world hadn't ended last time, had it?

The need to kiss her was an ache that spread through his chest,
centering on the point where her shoulder rested.  He brushed his lips
across her hair, then kissed her forehead.  The pressure of his kiss
tilted her face up just a little, an undemanding motion that she could
ignore if she wanted to.

She didn't.  She raised herself up off his chest just enough to kiss
him back.  An unmistakeable kiss.  Light enough to let them both
explore the heat and satin of lips, hard enough to promise more.  The
little noise that she made when they parted for breath struck him to
the heart.  Just a gasp, a quick intake of breath, but so alive...

He kissed her harder, deeper.  Neither one of them could explain this
away, no matter how spooked they were in the morning.  Not when they
were kissing with abandon.  Not when they were crushing each other
fiercely, and the feeling of the strength and grace of her body in his
arms was making him moan against her mouth.

When this kiss ended she let him see the astonishing smile in her eyes
for a few moments before hiding her face in his neck again.  Well, if
that was her new way of seeking privacy, he was all for it.  He held
her gently for a while, letting the passion ebb away.

"Scully?  I don't know if you're finished up here... but maybe you
want to try to get a few hours of sleep?"

"Sleep might be good."

"Lourdes has padded benches."

"Really?" She sat up.  "Okay."

They walked hand-in-hand back to the tiny chapel, taking benches on
opposite sides of the altar.  Mulder didn't think he'd sleep again; he
was just going to watch her.  But he did doze off a few times,
awakening the last time to the sound of the doors being unlocked.  It
was 6:30.

As Scully straightened out her hair and patted all her pockets making
sure everything was in place, Mulder emptied his wallet into the Our
Lady of Lourdes offering box.  Only $23 -- maybe he should drop off
some more later.

Scully quirked an eyebrow at him.  "For the candles," he explained.
He left them all burning when they snuck out the back stairs.

Let them all wonder what passed here last night.
 
 
 
><  The End  ><

Note: for a virtual tour of The Basilica of the National Shrine of the
Immaculate Conception, go to
http://www.nationalshrine.com/NAT_SHRINE/index.shtml
I lived in Washington DC for three years and NO ONE TOLD ME IT WAS THERE.  
I'm kicking myself now for never visiting it -- it looks like quite a
place.