TITLE: Water and Sun
AUTHOR: redprint (also redprintiam)
RATING: T
KEYWORDS: MSR, UST, Angst, Humor. Post-IWTB.
SUMMARY: Scully finds herself amidst deep Vatican secrets, an enigmatic priest and a wandering Mulder. And we all know how she gets when she is taken for granted. Rated T. Post-IWTB. True to MSR, but with a little twist.
SPOILERS: Mild references to different episodes (Never Again, Hollywood A.D., The Truth, IWTB).
A/N: Scully is a strong person, no-nonsense, rational and grounded, but you know that tattoo she got... Well, it makes me wonder of that other part of her personality that makes her so damn complex and interesting. The news of the X-Files series revival got my imagination going. I wanted to explore Scully's feelings toward Mulder's on-going search for the Truth, test her resilience and kick Mulder's butt for being such a moron sometimes.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Chris Carter is the genius behind it.
IN A SMALL TOWN IN TUSCANY
FRIDAY, MAY 29, 2015
She sat down at the kitchen's table and gazed out of the window. The luscious green trees moved in the light breeze while sunrays warmed her tired face. It was their fifth year abroad. Mulder got some troubling information that made them leave the U.S. right after their lives finally settled in. He was free of all charges but also free of everything else. Nothing tied him to D.C. or any other place for that matter. And when a guy from MUFON approached him with serious intel, as he put it, he decided to act on it. And she followed him. She always followed him.
They left the States and travelled first to Damascus, Syria. It was a long and a stressful journey to the other end of the world where they supposedly made experiments on a new breed of super soldiers. DNA variations, mind control through sound waves, enhancing muscles with chemicals... It disturbed her as a doctor and human being when she thought about it.
They found the facility. It had been abandoned not long before they arrived. All samples gone, all files shredded or taken away. Only the locals could give them some unintelligible facts that led them nowhere. It was just one of many disappointments they would witness on their journey. They almost caught the official in charge, almost saved a victim, almost got to the men responsible... almost. Egypt, Israel, Russia, Britain, Germany.
She sighed and ran a hand over her face.
It's a new lead, he told her this morning when he left her alone in a house where she still felt like a guest. They've been in Italy for nine months, the last six in a small town in Tuscany. The local priest took them in. So kind, so gentle.
And so challenging.
Father Nicola O'Brien. He was born in Belfast, Ireland, lived for the most part of his young years in England and migrated to Italy at 30. He was educated in theology, psychology and history, and well versed in languages. She couldn't fathom a priest like him. Empathic, intelligent, daring and honest. It was never just small talk with him, never just a question. A force to be reckoned with, as Mulder described him once.
"My mom is British with Italian ancestry and my father is plain Irish," he told her one evening when they were still getting to know each other.
"What did you do before moving to Italy?" she wanted to know so badly.
"You mean before deciding to be a priest?" his lips curled.
She felt guilty for being so curious, "Yes."
"I was MI5, actually," he replied with a glint in his eyes.
Her eyes widened, "What?"
He nodded, "I was recruited at 24, after working for a year as a psychologist."
She wanted to ask him why he quit but refrained.
"I met a Jesuit when I first came to Rome and decided to become a priest," he explained when he saw her troubled stare. "Mulder didn't tell you that?" he asked when she fell silent.
"No," she shook her head to add an emphasis.
She got accustomed to Mulder not telling her everything. And lately, it started to upset her.
"Why?" she asked this morning when he told her he was going to Rome to meet a Jesuit monk.
"He claims to have knowledge on the coming apocalypse," he bit his lip. It sounded ridiculous even to him.
"I bet he does," she remarked cynically. "He'll probably quote the Bible."
"He knows about the Shadow Government," he added in a hopeful tone.
She didn't take the bait. "How old is he?" she inquired.
"85," he grimaced.
"This is not working, Mulder," she met his hazel eyes and suppressed her anger.
"Scully," he whispered.
"Just... just do what you have to but don't expect me to follow you," she cut him off.
She watched him leave without a word. He looked worried and sad. But what exactly did he expect? They couldn't overthrow the plans for colonization. And the dreaded December 22, 2012? Well, nothing happened. But he still kept things from her, went on his bizarre little trips and told her little or nothing about it. When she voiced her concerns he dismissed them instantly. But she knew. She knew when he was staring at the abyss and needed help. Tears stung her blue eyes and she rubbed them. Why did it have to be so damn hard for them?
She walked outside and faced the sun with eyes closed, wishing away all bad thoughts. She opened her eyes and took in the view. Hills covered with forests, olive trees and vineyards. If it weren't for the lives they were living she'd be enjoying it immensely. She sat down at the stone table in front of the house and leaned back in the chair. She needed some normalcy... peace...
She dozed off.
"Good morning," a warm male voice greeted her. She opened her eyes and turned back. Nicola was leaning in the doorpost.
"Morning," she straightened up. "What time is it?"
"9.30," he replied without looking at his watch.
"When did you come home?" she asked while adjusting her hair.
"Sometime around 9.00," he replied amused.
"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked.
"I didn't want to," his lips curled. It was one of those smiles she never got tired of or used to. Honest, and yet so irritating with all the insinuations behind it.
"You should have," she replied too seriously and his smile faded.
"Where's Mulder?" he asked. He watched her with an unsettling gaze that it bothered her when she thought about it.
She looked at him with blinking eyes. "Mulder went to Rome to talk to a Jesuit monk."
"A Jesuit monk?" his lips curled again. The odds of that...
She nodded. "Why?"
"That's probably Gino. He's always preaching about the coming apocalypse," he moved to seat in front of her.
Great, she thought.
He looked at his wristwatch. "Do you have any plans for today?"
She looked at him. The shape of his lips, the curve of his jaw, his dark eyebrows and intense hazel eyes. "Nothing in particular," she answered in a rather contrite voice.
"I'm finished with work for today and I know a place that you would probably like," he looked at her hopefully. "Would you like to come?"
She smiled, finally. "I guess I have nothing else to do."
"Great," he smiled.
"Where is this place?" she asked when they walked in the house.
"Up north," he replied. "You'll see when we get there."
"Okay. Just let me get my things," she walked past him.
"Dana?"
"Yes?" she turned.
"You'd better pack for three days," he said and she looked at him. "We'll be back tomorrow."
Three days? They never went away for more than a day. "Okay."
"Ready?" he asked when she stepped in the yard. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white T-shirt with short sleeves that emphasized his athletic form. Didn't he have to wear his collar, at least?
"Ready," she smiled at him. She knew she was forgetting something but pushed the thought away.
"Alright then," he took his rucksack and walked toward the road.
"We're not taking the car?" she asked surprised.
"No, we are taking the train. The station is just ten minutes from here," he explained.
"By train?" She wasn't used to trains.
"Yes, by train," he repeated, looking her in that unsettling way again. "You'll miss the view if we take the car."
She sighed. That was father Nicola at his finest.
"Come on. You won't regret it," he added.
The small station was crowded, but they went by mostly unnoticed. A couple as any other, she thought, maybe even tourists. After twenty minutes of waiting they finally bordered the train. There were some families and older people traveling on it. She wondered what they thought when they saw them together. She wasn't naïve. There were some of them who knew Nicola and were not used to see him in a woman's company with a rucksack on his shoulders.
"How come you finished so early today?" she asked him when they finally settled in their seats.
"Father Vincenzo will fill for me today. He's visiting and offered to help me."
Father Vincenzo probably doesn't know what you planned, she thought.
"What about tomorrow?" she asked. He had weddings on Saturdays in May.
"The wedding was cancelled. They told me they needed some time to think. If you ask me they won't get married at all," he said and looked at her. Their knees and shoulders were pressed together. She could feel the warmth of his body penetrate her clothes and skin.
Their knees and shoulders were pressed together. She could feel the warmth of his body penetrate her clothes and skin.
She looked at him. "What about you?" she asked, seemingly unaffected.
He looked into her eyes, losing himself in those pools of sky-blue. "What?"
"Didn't you want to get married when you were younger?" she observed his changing features.
He finally realized what she was asking him. He hesitated.
"I'm sorry. It's none of my business," she apologized and looked away.
"I never met the right one," he said when he saw her retreat. "Maybe I simply wasn't prepared for marriage."
She turned to him. "But you told me you were engaged when you were young."
"I was. She left me for another man, got married, had three children and got a divorce ten years later," he told her.
"Sounds like you've been watching her," she teased lightly.
His jaw set. "She came to Italy after her divorce to ask me if there was still any hope for us. I was already a priest," he narrowed his head. "I guess it just wasn't meant to be."
She looked at his saddened face and something in her heart ached to comfort him. She would have squeezed his hand if they weren't seating in front of an old couple that knew him very well.
"Do you ever regret it?" she asked softly.
"No," he shook his head and lowered his voice. "I would never have met you if I chose her."
She didn't expect that. He was trying to change the subject, surely.
"And, Dana... I'm still young," he smiled and poked her shoulder.
She chuckled and looked out of the window. She gasped when the view opened in front of her eyes.
"That's amazing."
"I told you," he grinned.
A vast valley surrounded by green and grey mountains lay in front of them with a luscious forest and a small lake. It was breath taking.
"When –?"
"In about an hour," he replied, still grinning.
She figured she had time to read and fished for a book in her bag.
He looked at her curiously.
What?" she asked when she took the book out of her bag.
"You have my book," he said.
"You gave it to me."
He felt like an idiot. Of course she had it. He gave it to her a few weeks ago and thought she wasn't interested in it. He fell silent. If something so simple could get him all excited... It was worse than he had thought.
"I'll take a nap," he announced and turned his head away from the window light and in her direction. He smiled at the old couple and closed his eyes.
She looked at him from time to time. His face was tranquil. A boyish nature was hidden below those slowly appearing wrinkles. She knew he tried to hide his personal life. He would always reply that his past wasn't interesting but she knew better. He told her one night when Mulder was away that people liked a cleaned slate. If he kept it simple the people in his parish felt safe and understood. He looked at her for approval. She didn't know why, but she told him she didn't like clean slates.
CASTIGLIONE DEL LAGO
FRIDAY, MAY 29, 2015
"You've got to be kidding me," she said as she got off the train. A pentagonal fortress stood tall and proud in the distance and a vast lake lay behind it. The leaves rustled in the light breeze.
He smiled to himself. "Come on, let's go. I know the keeper."
They were walking in silence when he spoke. "A young boy confided in me once that he could hear the old trees murmuring secrets of their history as he walked to the castle."
His voice felt soothing to her for some reason. "And you believed him?"
"Of course," he replied and he looked at her, "I told him first that I could hear these trees talking to me."
The trees were impressive. She had to give him that. "Right," she replied dryly and tried to keep up with his pace.
The road winding in front of them was rather dusty and the sun shone high in the sky. Her surroundings, the whole atmosphere, felt ancient and primal to her as they walked in silence. She let her thoughts travel back to a time when innocence coloured her life. Her grandmother Olive used to tell her these little stories about dwarfs, fairies, their secret lands, princes and princesses. And she believed them all. At nights she would dream about them and get scared from time to time.
"I warned you," he spoke and she jerked her head in his direction.
"Don't be silly," she whispered. She still didn't get used to the fact that he read people so well.
He saw how awkward she felt and his lips quirked up. "Just imagine all the knights that galloped around here to meet the beautiful princess in the fortress above, trying to gain her heart, win her love and marry her fortune. All the fights that took place here... all shrouded in mystery," his tone was warm, teasing.
"I never took you as a romantic type," she interrupted him.
"I'm not... I'm more the adventurous kind... twists and intrigues," he looked at her.
"So love is just a place for twists and intrigues?" She didn't really know why she had asked that.
"As far as they are pure fiction," he replied.
"Of course, you're a saint," she said under her breath.
"I heard that," he looked at her accusingly and she smiled broadly.
She was going to be the end of him.
They reached the road that encircled the fortress, its four square towers rising high in front of them. Stone on stone, all work of men, he thought. Castiglione del Lago evolved on what used to be an island – the fourth island of Lake Trasimeno. It was built by Emperor Frederick II and withstood a number of sieges over the centuries.
"I'll get the keeper," he announced.
In five minutes he returned with an older man, rather short and portly. His name was Giorgio. He showed them around and invited them to have lunch with him. He was an amusing man. Scully laughed heartily when he told her a story about a lady who was visiting the castle and ran into Nicola. He couldn't get rid of her.
Nicola chuckled but wouldn't divulge more about it. His eyes were bright but something was building behind them. Powerful and consuming.
"What is it?" she asked him when Giorgio left.
"Nothing," he replied too quickly.
"Is there something you want to tell me?" she bored into him.
"No, not all," he lied and stood up. "The lake awaits us. We'll return for our luggage later. Just take something to lie on," he said.
She arched her brow and shot him an amused look.
"What?" he asked. "I didn't mean anything... Jesus, Dana."
She chuckled and he blushed. A sweet, dangerous game they were playing.
She took a small bag and took him by the hand. His heart jumped at the unexpected physical contact more than it should have.
"Take me to the lake," she said and looked him in the eye.
"Yes," he whispered.
LAGO TRASIMENO
FRIDAY, MAY 29, 2015
No wonder he came here when he was feeling down. Everything was vibrant with colour and sound. She felt energized instantly. "Thank you," she said quietly and looked at him. Those hazel eyes looked at her with such intensity that she had to look away.
She walked to the lake shore and put down the blanket. She was sensing clearly that there was something different about him and she just hoped it wasn't what she thought it was.
She sat down. "Nicola?"
He walked to her without uttering a word.
"Are you alright?" She was genuinely concerned even though she knew there was no chance he would talk about it.
"Would you like me to make a fire?" he asked after a while when they were sitting together in the shade.
She loved fire. "If it's no bother," she replied.
She watched him disappear into the trees and re-emerging with some old thick branches. He placed them together into a cone-like shape and fished for matches in his pocket.
"I was scout when I was in school," he stated while trying to ignite a fire.
"Really? Must have come in handy while at MI5," she joked.
He chuckled and cursed mentally when the fire wouldn't start.
"You must have excelled at your tasks as a scout," she teased him.
"I did," he replied.
"So what's stopping you now?" she teased him more.
"I never ignited a fire in such a good company," he gave her a look that flattened every inch of her being. Her heart stopped for a moment and her breath got caught in her throat.
"There we go!" he exclaimed when he finally managed to start the fire.
She smiled weakly. He got to her. His words sank deep into her gut, making her wonder about things she shouldn't even think about. If only Mulder would be here with her.
He gave the fire a few pokes and sat down near her.
"Are you alright?" he asked when he acknowledged her silence wouldn't end soon.
"Hm?" she looked at him. She was obviously distracted.
"What is it?" he rephrased the question.
"Nothing. I'm fine. I'm sorry," she reassured him. It was a lie, of course, and he probably knew it.
"I'm going to take a swim," he announced.
She looked at him. Now?
Oh, for the love of God. She wasn't prepared for such display of well-toned muscles. He had to work out to be in such a good shape. She looked away out of courtesy. Get a grip, she thought when he stepped into the water. That's not what you want.
"Dana!" she heard him shout from the lake, waving one hand. "Come here!"
"I have nothing to wear!" she shouted back.
He walked out of the water. "Then wear nothing," he said when he came closer to her. Drops of water were dripping down his skin and she tried real hard not to pay attention to them. "Come on! The water's great."
"I'm not going to swim naked," she stated.
"I'm not saying you should. You have your underwear, right?" he looked at her breasts.
She was speechless. He was kidding, right?
"Don't tell me you don't have any underwear on you," he feigned a breathless voice.
"Of course I do," she replied.
"Come with me then," he persisted and offered his hand.
She felt her heart pick up its beat. Could she?
She stood up and slowly removed her shirt and pants while he was standing there. She silenced her judgmental thoughts. A swim for sure wasn't immoral.
"You look good," he teased when she was done.
"Thank you," she wanted to kick his ass so badly.
His lips pursed. "You do realize that I saw naked women before?" It wasn't a question, really.
He could be so dense.
She lifted her eyes to meet his face, "Then stop looking at me as if I'm the first one."
He gasped and nodded.
She dived into the water. He was right behind her. They swam a longer distance and stopped where the water was deep and dark.
"Ahhh," she exhaled loudly. "I love it."
"How often did you say you come here?" she joked.
He chuckled. "I'll make a mental note to take you with me from now on."
"It's going to raise rumours." She didn't know what made her say it. Maybe the way they looked at them on the train or Giorgio's remark that Nicola always had good taste.
His eyes darkened slightly. "I don't care about what other people think. They don't know me, and they certainly don't know you."
"I wonder who does." She intended it to be a joke but it came out wrong.
"Clara does," he was referring to his late brother's wife.
There was a pause.
"And I know you," he added and swam around her.
"Do you now?" she asked and turned to keep eye contact with him.
He nodded, his eyes focused on her.
"Tell me," she challenged him.
He swam closer to her. "I know you're intelligent, honest and reserved."
Okay, she could take that. "What else?"
He hesitated.
"It's okay. Go on," she encouraged him.
"You're tired of this life. Tired of the search, travels and Mulder's incessant need to find a truth that is so eluding that you fear all your work will avail to nothing."
There, he said it aloud.
She narrowed her head. He was right. She was tired and afraid. This was not a life she would willingly lead. She looked at him with tearful eyes. Half accusing, half thankful.
He felt his heart constrict. "Oh, Dana," he whispered and reached for her. He pulled her into an embrace that spoke of understanding, acceptance... Love.
She sighed against his bare chest and her thighs brushed his involuntarily. It sent shivers down her spine. It caught her off guard.
"Just... let me go," she said and pushed him away.
His eyes closed. "I'm sorry," he apologized without exactly knowing what he did wrong. He let her go reluctantly and watched her swim to the shore. He followed her only after she had already reached their spot on the shore.
He walked to the blanket and grabbed his towel. She was wrapped in hers. So beautiful, so fragile. The fire was still burning. He sat down next to her and gave it a few pokes. It burned brightly. Her fingers played with a scrap of wood.
"I didn't want to upset you," he spoke softly.
She wouldn't look at him.
"Dana?" he asked and touched her hand.
Her muscles froze. She looked at him, realizing how close he was. A sigh escaped her, "I know."
"I went too far," he continued, feeling he had ruined something precious.
"I pushed you," she gazed into his eyes. "And you saw correctly."
He swallowed. He knew this was hard for both of them. He lay down on the blanket and gazed at the trees above. "None of this will matter in a hundred years from now." He had this look on his face that was telling her to let go.
I can't, she thought, and neither can Mulder.
She observed his features and let her eyes roam his body. He was attractive to a point that she had to deny it. And it wasn't just physical.
"What?" he asked.
She snapped out of her thoughts. "Nothing... How did you get that scar?" she asked to change the subject.
He looked at the scarred skin on his chest, healed a long time ago.
"I got stabbed on duty. I barely made it."
Something pierced through her. The thought that he could have died and they would have never met shocked her more than she was prepared to admit.
"The perils of our former professions," she said to lighten the mood.
"It happened a long time ago," he replied disinterested. At a time when he was an MI5 agent, and when priesthood was not even an idea.
"What about your tattoo?" He looked straight into her eyes.
She was taken aback. She didn't expect him to ask that. "It's a rather long story," she lied and hoped he would let it go.
"Is it?" he prodded.
No, she thought, but you already know that. Don't you? "I had to deal with certain decisions and patterns in my life."
"Mulder?" he asked prudently.
She looked above. It felt like the trees were shielding them. "He was only part of the problem." She was drawn to authoritative figures in her life, starting with her father, but withdrew when she began to feel smothered. The fathers, she called them.
"Do I fit the description?" he asked.
She winced. She had a hard time getting accustomed to his abilities to read others. "I don't know, do you?"
"I'm not controlling, but I am hard to deal with," he looked away from her as if afraid of what she might say.
Not any harder than Mulder or Melissa, she thought. "You're challenging. That's different."
"And Mulder isn't?"
Oh, Mulder... the Prince of Challenge. "He is extremely challenging but he's also obsessive. Something you're not."
"Are you sure?" he teased.
She smiled. "I should hope so."
"So how did a tattoo change any of it?" He wouldn't leave it.
"It didn't," her voice was almost a whisper. "I needed to do something out of character... different... I didn't want to be taken for granted."
"And you chose an Ouroboros? The eternal return?"
"I wanted something meaningful, not just ink on skin." She wasn't the shallow type. He knew that, right? "I met a man while on assignment and he just got a tattoo. I asked him to take me to the same tattooist."
She paused.
"It didn't go as planned," he suggested.
"No, it didn't," she shook her head. "He seemed nice enough... flawed enough. And I felt I could trust him. But he was under the influence of a parasite and tried to kill me. I barely survived, too... It's a scar just as much as yours."
"So transformation it is," he said after a moment of silence.
"What do you mean?" she was thinking about the Jesuit monk Mulder was supposed to meet.
"The Ouroboros," he reminded her, "an endless cycle and transforming that which it has ended into something new. You probably needed it at that time."
"I forget that you're a historian," she remarked, avoiding commenting her need for perpetual transformation.
He smiled, "It was always a passion."
"And since we're talking about it you should know that the Ouroboros was adopted by Christianity to symbolize the self-consuming, self-defeating, and circular nature of this world's existence."
"Thank you, Professor," she stopped him. She could use something transformative right now.
He smiled and threw a small rock toward her. An eye roll was all he got from her.
He looked at the water. The sun was starting to lose its edge. "It's getting late, Mrs Scully, we should go. Unless you want us to sleep here." He looked at her frame and a glint of something not quite predictable appeared in his eyes.
"Are you implying that we could?" she returned the ball.
"There's the blanket," he patted the soft material and his lips curled.
She knew he was going to say something utterly irritating.
"You've slept with men before, right?"
She could have pretended that it was just a joke but she knew it bothered him that she had a one-nightstand with a man she barely knew. Even if she hadn't told him directly about Ed Jerse he was clever enough to understand that something happened between them.
"What is it, Nicola? You can't grasp the idea that I slept with someone I didn't know?" her voice was edgy. "And don't tell me you never had a one-night stand in your life."
He stared at her. His eyes transpired a fiery quality. "I have no problem with your night encounters as long as you don't assume that men are all the same."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He looked at her, "I never had a one-night stand, Dana."
That hit her. Never? Not even once? A man like that?
"Yeah, a man like me," he added.
"Stop doing that," she complained.
His lips curled into a broad smile. "Take your stuff, and don't look at me like that."
COUNTRY HOUSE PRINCIPE DEL TRASIMENO
CASTIGLIONE DEL LAGO, ITALY
FRIDAY, MAY 29, 2015
It was already late when they arrived at a country house where Nicola planned to stay. She saw him furrow his brows and brush his forehead while he talked to the receptionist. Something was wrong. The receptionist took the phone and called someone, but when she was done she just shook her head.
"We have a problem," he said when he returned to her.
"Let me guess. There are no more rooms," she sounded tired.
"Well, actually, there's only one room," he replied.
Her face lightened. "And?"
"There's only one bed."
"Oh, I see." Despite all the insane things that had happened in her life so far she didn't expect she would have to share a bed with a priest. Ever.
"We can still go back to the station and wait for a couple of hours until the train arrives," he offered.
"No," she shook her head. "I'm too tired, and you should rest, too. We'll take the room."
"You sure?" he asked.
"As long as you are fine with it."
"Yes, of course," he had to suppress the sudden feeling of excitement rising in his chest.
"Thank God," she said when he lit the light and a nicely furnished room appeared in front of her eyes. It smelled of fresh linens and sandal wood.
She sat on the bed and exhaled. He pulled out his sleeping bag.
"What are you doing?" she asked surprised.
"I'll sleep on the floor," he replied and put his rucksack down.
"There's no need. The bed is big enough," she said.
"No trouble," he insisted.
"I don't want you to, Nicola." She set his eyes on him.
He looked at her. What was she saying exactly?
"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," he said. It was a good reason, wasn't it?
"I will be if you sleep on the floor," she insisted more.
He bit his lip. He was certain that a priest wasn't supposed to share the same bed with a woman in a relationship. Or any other woman, father Vincenzo would add. Even with the purest of intentions in mind it didn't feel right. But he didn't look at her as at any woman for some time now. He saw her as a fiercely intelligent, beautifully complex and extremely passionate person. Someone he deeply cared about.
"I'm going to the bathroom," she said when his embarrassment became too obvious. What was his problem? They were adults and, surely, they could handle a situation like this without incidents.
"Okay," he sounded drained. He started to search frantically through his rucksack when she left the room and realized he hadn't brought any pyjamas with him. He had just a pair of black boxers and a shirt to wear for the next day. That was just great.
He sat on the bed and heard the water running in the shower. His eyes widened as images of her hit him hard. He could see her figure, the water running down her body, her hands on her breasts, her hips and thighs... He shook his head. Good God, he was in deep trouble. He inhaled and exhaled only to find her out of the bathroom and in front of his eyes.
She was stunning.
"I'm done," she stated. She was wearing only her panties and a T-shirt that fitted her nicely. He gave her a grave look.
"The shower's all yours," she continued and saw his expression. Maybe they couldn't handle the situation.
Maybe they couldn't handle the situation. At all.
"Yeah, right. I won't be long," he finally replied.
She could feel his eyes on her. "Take your time."
She sat down on the bed. The sheets were clean and soft. She ran a hand over them to feel the fabric. It was then that she noticed a pair of black boxers hanging out of his rucksack. He was exasperating.
Her phone rang.
"Hey, Scully."
A warm feeling passed her heart. Mulder.
"Hey," she greeted back. "How are you?"
"I'm okay. Gino's invited me to stay with him for a day or two. He says I should become a monk if I want to save my soul."
She chuckled. "You'll be the damnation of that monastery if they let you in."
"Scully!"
"What? It's the truth."
There was silence for a few moments. She felt tired.
"Where are you?" he asked.
"With Nicola," she replied.
"I didn't know Nicola became a place," he said.
She blushed. "Near Lake Trasimeno. We went on a trip," she explained without too much detail.
"Should I be worried?" he teased.
Yes, she thought. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Listen, Gino is a nice old man but I'm afraid he loves the bottle a little much. If he doesn't show me anything of substance I'm outta here."
Maybe the shadow government turned all the super soldiers into rag dolls and put Gino in charge of them. She didn't say that aloud. "I don't know why you went in the first place," she pointed out.
"Scully..." he whispered.
"Don't Scully me," she sounded irritated all of a sudden. It probably coincided with the fact that Nicola walked out of the bathroom to retrieve his boxers. He was wearing only a towel. She stared at him.
"We'll talk when I get back," he promised.
"There's nothing to talk about," she retorted.
"Sure. I heard that one before."
"And I felt like this more times than I care to remember." Was he really going to patronize her?
He sighed heavily. "Listen, I don't want to fight."
"I'm sorry, Mulder, but I don't know how else to make it clear. I'm tired of living like this," she sounded upset.
He fell silent. "Okay. I hear you."
"Do you?"
"I do," he reassured her. "Say 'hi' to Nicola and tell him that Gino sends his regards. And Scully?"
"Yes?"
"I love you," his voice was soft.
She closed her eyes. "I love you, too."
She switched off the phone and lay against the comfortable pillows. Should he be worried? Oh, God, should he?
Exhaustion was starting to get the better of her. Her eyes were slowly closing when Nicola returned from the bathroom. Her eyes opened and she watched him stretch discreetly on his side of the bed. His muscles contracted and he exhaled loudly.
She swallowed.
He looked at her.
She blushed.
What the hell was going on?
She gazed out of the window to distract herself. The peaceful scenery was in stark contrast with her state of mind. And to be absolutely clear, she had no idea what was going on. Her pulse was getting out of control, her skin felt hot and her head started to feel slightly dizzy. Either she was about to have a heart attack or she was seriously attracted to him.
He was sitting on the bed, rearranging his pillow. "Dammit," he cursed under his breath. It was too soft for his liking.
She turned to him and he smiled, totally oblivious of her state of mind.
"Did you know that this place is known for paranormal phenomena?" he asked casually.
"What?" Oh, good, she could still speak.
"People reported on several occasions that they witnessed a young woman dressed in white enter the castle's jail but never saw her leaving," his eyes sparkled.
"Could be one of the locals trying to attract tourists and their money," she offered quickly a logical explanation. Mulder's crazy theories trained her well.
"Could be," he replied and lifted the sheet.
"You don't believe it?"
He was getting too close to her.
"A man in my parish told me that he saw her walk through a thick wall," he was looking her directly in the eye. They were lying close to each other.
She stopped breathing and gazed at him. She could tell that those kind hazel eyes could see right through her.
"There's a ladybug on your shoulder," he told her and reached for the little insect. He accidentally brushed her neck with his fingers while trying to catch it. She closed her eyes.
"There," he said when he caught it. "Look how small and beautiful it is."
He neared the little creature to her eyes and inspected it carefully. She had to smile. How many men were able to display such a childlike enthusiasm towards life? He blew against the insect and it flew away from his hand.
He looked at her. She was now just inches away. "You look beautiful." His breath caressed her cheek. He looked startled by his own admission just as much as she was.
She didn't know how to respond. In fact, she had trouble focusing on anything at all. The warmth coming from his body was enveloping her tired heart so gently. He adjusted a lock of her hair that was stubbornly falling on her forehead and she shuddered.
"Are you cold?"
"A little," she lied. The blood in her veins felt hot. What were they doing?
"I can sleep on the floor," he offered again.
She didn't answer right away and he looked questioningly at her.
"Dana?"
"Yes?" she could barely breathe.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She did feel fine but something in her life was seriously wrong.
"I'm saying I'll sleep on the floor," he searched for an answer in her eyes.
"No, stay here. Sleep with me," she realized how it sounded and blushed at her poor choice of words.
She exhaled silently when he finally lay down next to her. She felt the need to touch him but scolded herself at the thought.
"That's nice, very nice," he hummed against the soft sheets and turned to look at her. "Aren't you sleepy?"
"I'm exhausted," she replied but she was afraid to lie down next to him. The bed wasn't big enough. Maybe at that moment any bed wouldn't have been big enough.
"Hmm... why don't you lie down?" he asked silently and patted the mattress.
"I'm fine like this," she replied, hoping he'd leave it at that. She didn't trust herself in that moment.
"Okay," he turned his back to her. "Just don't complain about a sore neck tomorrow morning."
She looked at his naked back and clothed ass. If the pope walked into the room at that moment he'd be facing irreparable consequences.
"Come on. I'll be a gentleman, I promise," he joked and turned his head to look at her.
She knew he'd never take advantage. The problem was she would and it bothered her deeply. She never had problems bridling her own sexual impulses.
"I'm sorry. I don't feel very well," she got up and walked to the bathroom.
She needed a cold shower. Anything cold, really. She let the water run in the washbowl and looked at the mirror. Her eyes were so dark with desire that it frightened her. She could feel the sexual tension between the two of them just as much as she felt the wooden floor beneath her feet. She thought of Mulder. When was he going to stop ditching her? She washed and towelled her face. The cold water made her cheeks look only more flushed. She exhaled loudly. She loved Mulder profoundly, but the feelings she experienced with Nicola scared her. He was unconventional. She liked unconventional. And the fact that Mulder ditched her again wasn't helping her at all. She got a hold of herself at last, but her heart felt empty.
She walked in the bedroom. Nicola was engrossed in his journal. Apparently, he wasn't as affected as she was.
"Did I ever tell you that I'm colour-blind?" he said when she lay down.
Colour-blind? "What?" she asked. Mulder was colour-blind, too.
"Yeah, protanopia. I can't see you blush," he joked and she stirred. Damn you, she thought, damn you.
"Take it easy. I can still see your brows furrow."
She looked at him, into those lusciously green eyes. She was aroused and angry. A potent mix.
"Good night, Nicola."
She turned her back to him and switched off her bedside lamp. She wanted to sleep, get lost in her dreams and forget about their day. But her traitorous brain hit her with images of the day. His warm smile, intense gazes, the way he hugged her when they were in the water, his arms around her back, her leg touching his. She opened her eyes and breathed deeply. Her T-shirt felt uncomfortable.
After a couple of minutes, he switched off the light as well and turned to his side. She didn't waste her time and carefully removed the soft garment. It felt inadequate but she didn't care. She wasn't going to parade in front of him and she could always pull the sheet over her.
They were lying silently on the bed for long moments, both pretending to be asleep. The night was too peaceful for her taste. It irritated her. She was never going to fall asleep.
"Is it hard?" she asked out of the blue.
"What?" he asked back as if he expected her to speak.
"Being a priest, not having someone by your side." She turned to him.
"God's with me," he replied.
She didn't say anything to that. She took comfort in prayers a lot since she won her battle with cancer, but not always was she able to feel a divine proximity. She turned to his side. The room was so dark she couldn't tell if he was watching her as well.
He moved then and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her. But he clenched his fist and buried his face in the pillow.
"What is it?"
He didn't answer. She just heard him breathe against the pillow.
"Nicola?" her voice sounded alarmed.
"It's okay," he replied, his voice muffled.
It was obvious it wasn't okay.
He rolled to the edge of the bed and wished he had chosen the sleeping bag. This has to end, he thought.
"I'm gonna sleep on the floor."
But before he could lift himself up she stopped him. She didn't say anything. She just grabbed his arm. He felt the passion in her grip. It spoke volumes. Was it always like this with her, he wondered.
"I can't sleep," he tried to give her an honest explanation.
"Neither can I," she said. "We need to talk."
"No, we don't," he said coldly.
She let him go.
He took the sleeping bag out of his rucksack.
"You can turn the light on," she told him.
"No, it's alright. I'm done."
But he couldn't set his mind at rest. He had things to sort out. And lately, they had a name – Dana Scully. Bitterness was wearing him down. His father told him he will know when the right one comes by. But he never knew until now and it was already too late.
She kept turning and shifting in the bed. Her muscles ached and her head felt heavy.
"Are you asleep?" he asked softly.
"No. I thought you were," she said.
"I'm not," he replied in a fragile voice.
"I didn't want to upset you."
"You didn't. I'm doing a great job at it myself."
She was silent.
"I'm not sure what I want, anymore. " he said hesitantly.
This wasn't good. At all.
"What has changed?" she had to ask. It was a reasonable question.
"It's not that easy," he shook his head as if she could see him in the dark. His eyes watered and he fell silent.
She cursed the darkness. She wanted to see the expression on his face but she didn't dare turn on the light. "Would you like to talk about it?"
He smiled bitterly and brushed his cheek. To talk about it with her was madness. He could never tell her he was in love with her.
"Nicola?" she asked softly.
"Yes?"
"Come to bed," she said.
He froze. What was she suggesting? "I'm not sure."
"Just come over here," she repeated.
He got up, slowly making his way to the bed. It was absurd how nervous he was. He looked out of the window. The night was darker than usual. He bumped into the wooden bed.
"Careful," she warned.
"I have a hidden talent for clumsiness."
"No, you don't," she said. "It's so dark in here."
He and lay down on his stomach. He couldn't look at her.
"It is hard sometimes," he spoke quietly.
She nodded slightly.
"I have my fears and weaknesses. They hit me hard at times. Loneliness is the worst."
She knew what he meant. She said once that loneliness is a choice. His was for real.
She shifted toward him, touching his arm.
He tensed.
"Don't be afraid," she whispered.
His muscles deflated under her warm hand.
"Turn around."
He turned to lie on his back. Their bodies were inches apart.
"I know how it feels like," she reassured him. "It's unbearable sometimes."
He looked at her and slightly nodded. She smiled softly and caressed his hair. He had to look away or he would have touched her, pressed her body against his.
"But it gets better from time to time. And besides, you have many friends,"
"I know. But they have their own lives."
"Everybody does."
"What do you mean?"
"You can never be so close to someone to never feel loneliness again."
"I hope Mulder gets home soon." It was a lie. He wanted him to vanish, so he could be with her forever. He shivered.
"Are you alright?"
"No," he admitted.
She stroked his shoulder and ran her hand down his chest. It sent sparks down his skin. He had to repress a groan.
"Tell me, Nicola. Just tell me," her voice pleaded him. Her hand smoothed his abdomen and stopped on his hips.
"I can't," he felt weak.
"Why?"
He swallowed hard. "I just can't." He turned on his side still facing her. He thanked God it was dark. Otherwise, his barely clothed erection would be a serious problem.
She knew the effect she had on him. She knew she should have stopped. But the attraction she felt for him jailed all rational thought. His skin felt soft and gentle, his muscles taut and strong... She couldn't let go of him. With her right hand she kept drawing lazy circles on his hip.
He felt intoxicated. His breath was coming out in hot puffs that danced against her flushed cheeks.
They stared at each other in the darkness.
She could see his eyes as if it was broad daylight. His stare was strong, magnetic. It went straight to her heart, played with her mind and found its place on her heated skin. She was sure she was about to make something bold, irrational, ultimately wrong. With her right hand she slipped over his boxers and caressed his ass.
He groaned loudly and grabbed her hand. It startled her. They were both breathing heavily. He held her hand locked on his ass cheek.
"It's me, Nicola," she whispered. She thought her chest would open.
"I know," his voice was a growl. He let go of her hand.
A bitter taste of regret settled in her throat when she realized how far they had gone. "Maybe it is better that you sleep on the floor," she turned away from him.
His eyes widened. She asked him to sleep in bed, she touched him in an inappropriate way and now she wanted him to sleep on the floor?
"I'm not your puppet," he said grudgingly.
"I never said you were," she couldn't hide her emotions. "Go sleep on the floor." She wanted it to sound as a command but it came out more as a desperate plea.
"No," he replied.
She had to admire his stubbornness. She wasn't single and he was a priest. Not that it mattered to her in that moment but it was still a fact.
"Nicola, it's not debatable."
"Everything is debatable. I thought you knew that."
"Fuck you!" Her cheeks were raging red.
"Really? That's the best you can do?" his words dug into her pride.
"You're the one who can't be sincere," she was angry, her voice cold.
He shifted and sat up on the bed. She could only see the frame of his body.
"I'm gonna go," he said.
She faltered then. She had no right accusing him he wasn't being truthful. Neither was she.
He felt the mattress move and her body right behind him. She pressed her chest against his back and her arms went around him. His skin suffered minor electroshocks when he realized her naked breasts jammed into his bare back.
"You're not going anywhere," she said and he knew it was not debatable.
"Dana," he sighed and clasped his hands with hers, pressing them to his chest.
"I know... I knew from the start," she admitted and he closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he felt that way.
"I think I never loved that much," he whispered desperately. She felt her heart fall. This wasn't fair. She pressed her lips against his shoulder. Her arms held him tight.
"I have," she admitted. "I still do."
He nodded calmly but his heart wanted to explode from pain. "Don't mention him. Not tonight."
He felt her shift behind him. He said something he shouldn't have. It was logical that she would retreat now. She loved Mulder.
"I won't," she simply said and tugged at his shoulders. Her hands pulled him with her. He wanted to say 'no' but no words came out of his mouth. She hugged him in her arms and lay against the smashed pillows.
His head rested on her chest. He could hear her heart pounding below her spilled breasts.
Thump, thump, thump.
Minutes flew by. None of them spoke.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"About life and love."
"You should enter a monastery," he joked.
She chuckled and ran a hand thorough her hair.
"Do you have any feelings at all for me?" He knew he shouldn't be asking it but the question burned inside him.
She stopped her hand. "Don't ask me that."
"I need to know," he said and looked her in the eye. The moonlight was shyly lighting his features. It made his green eyes shine grey.
"It'll only be harder," she tried to reason him.
"Tell me," he squeezed her hand hard this time.
She looked into those hopeful eyes. She understood his love all too well. She fell for Mulder the same way. It felt like the need for water and sun.
"You know I'm affected by you."
His heart came to a stop. "Affected," he repeated.
She nodded.
"How?" he shifted so he could look at her face to face.
"Nicola?!" he got too excited for her taste.
"Do you think of me?"
"No!" she was blushing.
"No," he repeated and rested his head back on her chest. It was so warm there. Her breasts moved with her breathing. He wanted to cup one, run his finger over the sensitive skin, but restrained himself.
"I like you a lot. I care for you," her voice was quiet. "I like how you wonder at simple things, how you reach my heart with simple words and gestures."
"But?" He knew there was always a 'but'.
She was afraid what she may answer him. It was never easy when hearts warmed up to each other. "I'm with Mulder," she whispered. He lives inside every fibre of my being, she thought to herself.
He closed his eyes. "I understand." I wasn't easy but he did respect their love. It was rare and it gave hope.
"Do you think we could get some sleep now?" she asked him.
He placed his head back on her chest. "Yes." He felt calm at last.
Her arms went around him and he closed his eyes. Did she have any feelings for him? Yes, good God, she did. She loved him or she wouldn't have let him lie in her arms like that. But it was a different kind of love. The only thing that started to bother her each day more was the fact that it was beginning to feel much like what she felt for Mulder.
Water and sun.
COUNTRY HOUSE PRINCIPE DEL TRASIMENO
CASTIGLIONE DEL LAGO, ITALY
SATURDAY, MAY 30, 2015
She woke up first. His head lay on his pillow but his hand was still placed protectively over her stomach. She slipped away from it and got up. She put on her T-shirt. Enough skin, she thought, and stepped near the window to open it.
"Good morning," she heard a familiar voice greet her.
She turned and saw him shifting in the bed.
"Good morning," she greeted back.
"I think I'm going to start counting from zero my days from this moment on."
She chuckled and joined him in the bed. Her hand found his and she squeezed it.
"It was quite a night," she agreed.
"When is Mulder coming back?" he asked.
"Tomorrow, although Gino invited him to join the Jesuit order," her lips curled.
"That would be something," he smiled.
He looked at her then. Into the red and blue.
"Don't look at me like that," she whispered.
"Why?" he kept looking at her.
"Your vulnerability... it's freaking me out," she felt her throat go dry.
"Is it?" he was unable to stop looking at her.
Her lips opened just barely and he leaned in closer.
They both started when the phone rang.
"It's Mulder."
She exhaled heavily before answering him.
"Hey," she said.
"Scully?" his voice was grave.
"Somebody killed the monk."
"What?" she gasped.
Nicola lifted his eyebrows. Gino's dead, she told him. His eyes widened.
"Who's with you?" Mulder asked.
"Nicola's here," she replied before thinking of it properly.
"Where are you?" he sounded confused.
"I told you we were at a country house," she didn't want to discuss it. "Why would anyone want to kill a monk?"
"I don't know. But some documents are missing."
"How was he killed?" she asked.
"Someone hit him in the head," he explained.
Blunt trauma of the head, she thought.
Tell him we'll be there in the evening, Nicola told her and got on the phone to cancel his hotel reservation for that night.
She nodded and let Mulder know they were arriving.
"Gino's the one, Dana," Nicola said when she hanged up.
"What do you mean?"
"He's the reason I became a priest." He was visibly shaken.
"What?"
"Yes," he replied shortly. "There are things you don't know about me... about the time when I first arrived to Italy. It may concern Mulder, too."
She stared at him. More secrets?
TO BE CONTINUED.
"What you seek is seeking you."
― Rumi
"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back."
— Plato