AN – I have major issues in my life right now. Sorry for not reviewing more of your stories and replying to those who have taken the time to review mine. I am reading and they are a life line for me. I will get back to Dreams and Time Slip when things settle down. Right now I've written this because its kinda the way I feel.

'Forgive me Father,' Scully's litany came without thought. She'd preformed this duty so many times in her thirty eight years, because her faith, her religion dictated she needed too. Now, in this instance, Dana Katherine Scully felt the need to seek out the nearest Catholic Church in this god forsaken, remote region, find its priest and speak the words her heart demanded. 'It has been a long time since my last confession.'

'My child,' came the gravely, older voice from the other side of the intricately carved screen, 'I sense you are at odds with your faith and not here to confess your sins.'

'There are some sins I cannot forgive myself,' Scully told the man sadly, 'even if god wills it.'

'Then tell me what troubles you, my child,' his voice remained steady, even with the great sadness he felt emanating from the other side of the confessional.

'I have forsaken everything I have ever known, my friends, my family, my faith for a quest. The greatest quest an individual can pursue,' the words came haltingly, Scully unsure exactly what she really wanted to say or why she felt the sudden need to reconnect with a god, a faith she'd all but give up.

Touching the cross at her throat, she closed her eyes thinking perhaps faith would be all she could expect of this life. In that moment, Ahab, Missy, William and her mother flashed across her closed lids reminding her of happier, if somewhat naive times. She mourned them all, especially her mother, who although alive had been lost to her in the need to expose the elusive Truth. The quest, once Mulder's alone, now hers as well, as she struggled to make sense of the events in her life.

'You allude to unspeakable acts, the devils work,' the priest commented evenly, suddenly understanding the aura surrounding the woman. She had lost all hope, desolate in her need to find even a glimmer of light in her dark existence.

'Yes,' the word exited as a hiss. Silent tears started their slow path down Scully's cheeks. She didn't wipe them away, realising they symbolised a ritual cleansing. 'I have gaze into the face of evil so many times, yet still it seeks me. It took away everything I have, everything I am. It is the reason I'm here today.'

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Dana gathered the courage to continue. 'For the last ten years I have spent my life opposing nameless, faceless creatures in positions of complete and absolute power. Their influence reaches into the lives of every man, woman and child on this planet. They sell and trade souls to the devil, thinking nothing of it. They care not for the darkness they leave in the lives of their victims, the effect on family or society. Tyranny, conspiracy, circles within circles, men at the highest levels of power, trading hope and humanity for their gain in the misguided belief they might survive the Armageddon they've helped plan. Their influence is above any law, outside political influence, beyond scientific endeavour and has no reproach in faith. I feel as though I can never be clean of their tainted influence. The darkness they have insidiously seeded into my life surrounds me at every turn.'

'You have travelled this path alone?' the priest asked, horrified, not by the words but the tone. He knew this young woman's experience to be true. Her voice demanded belief. Only one who's survived such horrors could speak without a shred of emotion or passion, worn down by evil itself.

'No,' Scully exhaled sharply, 'there is a man, my companion, my touchstone, my constant. We have been on this quest together.'

'He is with you still?' confusion coloured the question.

'We have only each other,' Scully murmured, 'there is no one else we can trust. Our tale so unbelievable, few would accept it. Those who have sought our destruction, who would continue to hunt us if they knew we survived, are the only link to any kind of proof and now beyond our reach.'

'Yet you have come to me,' fifty years had taught this man much. He knew they circled the real reason she'd entered his isolated parish, deliberately choosing a church far from a major population centre. 'Tell me what troubles you so, my child. Your pain and suffering emanates off you in waves.'

'I have been forced to make many choices for the sake of my quest. I do not regret any of them. I did not have to choose between the father and the son,' Scully's tears, now a constant stream, dripped onto her blouse, drying instantly in the stifling heat her body generated, 'and it devastates me. They held all the power, choosing when they took away my reasons for living.'

'You do not speak of the Holy Trinity,' he urged her to continue when the pause became elongated. 'Perhaps you speak metaphorically, of the choice between your faith in an all-encompassing conviction and the physical manifestation.'

Scully sighed. She'd kept her eyes closed, memories flooding her conscious. Yet in a way, she knew the priest had made his point. 'Yes,' she held onto the syllable, trying to find the exact words to express her emotions. 'This evil took away any chance I might have had for a normal life. Slowly they placed any hope of happiness beyond my reach. Yet somehow, into the midst of this quest, I bore a miracle child. They robbed this knowledge from his father. He has never known his son, just as I will never know my son. He has been taken from us in the hope this evil will never know him, never follow him, that his destiny might be very different from that of his parents.'

Nodding, even though the woman couldn't see him, the old, wizened priest understood. 'The father, the man you now travel with, he understands, has forgiven you for allowing your son to be protected in anonymity by others. Yet you are unable to forgive yourself.' The statement caused a soft sob and a muffled sound which resembled a yes. 'Tell me of your son.'

Seconds passed before Scully managed to string a halting sentence together. After a minute, the word flowed easily. An hour passed, in which she relived every moment of William's nine months up to and including his adoption. In all that time, he uttered soothing syllables, softly muttered sounds encouraging Scully to break down completely and express the grief she'd held in so tightly.

When she finished, spent, the old man had a decision to make. Carefully, he approached the subject, 'your son's adoption, did it take place through legal channels.'

'No,' Scully all but whispered. 'We had friends, now lost, who arranged it. If they lived I might have some recourse.'

'Never give up hope,' he relied on the standard answer but with an inflection in his voice which made Scully sit up and take note, 'never give up on a miracle. Jesus taught us, what is lost may be found. The bible urges us, when we believe all hope is lost, we must place our faith and trust in him.'

Sucking in a deep breath, wiping the tear stains from her cheek, Scully's brain focused on the meaning behind the words. She knew the priest gave her a message. 'Father,' she almost pleaded.

'The child, your son,' he phrased the question carefully, 'his conception…'

'Mary conceived her son out of wedlock,' Scully answered with as much tact.

'The blessed virgin eventually married Joseph,' he returned, not touching the comparison of miracle sons, 'in the church in spite of the persecution they would have faced in their society.'

'The context is not the same,' Scully denied but without any real conviction.

'Perhaps,' the priest hesitated, 'perhaps not. Do you believe in fate,' he enquired with a distinctly serious overtone, 'in destiny?'

'You believe I entered this church for a reason,' Scully probed, her sharp mind now filled with questions, 'that I have been drawn here?'

'God works in mysterious ways,' the priest reminded. 'Your child, how old would he be now?' the query came slowly, gently but infused with steel.

'Tomorrow is his first birthday,' the broken sobs took several minutes to subside, in which the priest waited patiently.

'A confession between a parishioner and their priest is sacrosanct,' the gravelly voice became infused with emotion for the first time, 'so I must ask you to take my next request on faith alone. This state allows for common law marriage. Bring the father here tomorrow, at the stroke of midday. He must be prepared to make vows to the mother of his child, for I will not release what maybe a miracle brought about by the hand of God to the care of an uncommitted couple in the eyes of the Catholic Church.'

Scully stated to protest, but he cut her off. 'Go now, my child, and think over our conversation. It has been witnessed by only god and us. I make no promises or pledges. I ask only that you find your faith and maybe it will find you.'