December 8th - Pray For Me
"Garcia..." Rossi called, making her stop in her tracks.
She was just crossing through the bullpen, ready to head home after a long day. Upon hearing the sound of Rossi's voice, she stopped dead and spun around to face the senior agent, hoping that he didn't need her to process some other request before heading out.
"Yes, Sir?"
"Can I speak with you for a minute? I have something I'd like to ask you."
"Of course, Sir." As she followed him up to his office, she couldn't combat the rising feeling of anxiety that she couldn't fully explain; although, past history of one-on-one conversations with him didn't exactly bode well.
He shut the door behind them and was silent for a minute. She began to wonder if he had reconsidered. "Sir?"
"I was wondering if you would like to come with me to church tonight..." he said quickly.
"I, umm..." she stuttered, not entirely sure what to say, having been taken aback by the unexpected invitation.
He immediately started to justify, "Don't feel obligated, I'd completely understand if you aren't up for it. But I just thought that since everyone is making you a part of their Christmas traditions, I'd like to share one of mine. And..." he paused, meeting her eyes, "Sometimes, when I feel like everything's falling apart around me and I'm not in control of anything, it helps me to pray, to know that someone's listening, that someone cares."
"I'd love to," she cut him off, knowing that this wasn't the kind of thing he was used to doing. She gave him a slight smile, "Thank you."
******
Garcia had been to church before, but she couldn't help but feel like it wasn't quite the same as this time. Not to mention that it had been many years since she had last set foot inside a church to pray.
And, as she and Rossi crossed through the small cathedral to sit down in one of the first few pews, she couldn't shake the feeling that people were watching her, judging her.
Like they knew she didn't belong.
And not in the same way that most people looked at her when they saw an outrageously, colorfully dressed woman. It was almost like their gazes were filled with contempt.
She had specifically chosen some of her most conservative clothing, having had the feeling that the other church-goers might not be the most receptive to her over-the-top personality.
It was like they could see right through her.
Evidently, Rossi could too, because he leaned over and whispered, "Just ignore them, they're all just a bunch of stuck-up Catholic jerks. Not exactly receptive to outsiders..."
She smiled gratefully. He, at least, wasn't ashamed of her. She had to admit, she was a little surprised; she had always felt that his attitude towards her was more one of necessary tolerance, rather than actual acceptance. She understood; she was, after all, a bit of an acquired taste and not everyone was going to like her.
"If you think that, then why do you come here?" she asked quizzically.
"Because I'm a stuck-up Catholic jerk." He looked over at her to see her smiling cautiously at the joke. "It's okay to laugh, I admit it and I know you were thinking it."
"No," she lied, "I just..."
"It's fine, I know I'm not the most likable person. And I haven't always been very kind to you."
"It's fine. I'm not..."
"No, it's not okay. I was horrible to you because you're different..."
She frowned and raised a cautioning hand. "Let me just stop you right there. If you're only saying this to clear your conscience because I could be dying, then I don't want to hear it."
Rossi sighed, "I know fake apologies are the last thing you want, but I assure you, I truly am sorry. I've never truly accepted you because of who you are and that wasn't very kind of me. I'd like your forgiveness; it might be too late to make it up to you, but it's not too late to start over with a clean slate."
"I'd like that," she said with a genuine grin.
He offered his hand for a handshake. "Friends?"
"Friends," she agreed, but instead pulled him into a hug which he returned after only a slight moment of hesitation.
From the front of the alter, the priest started, "Every Christmas season we remind each other that it is not enough for Christ to have been born in Bethlehem two thousand years ago. What really counts is Christ being born in the human heart. Your Bethlehem is when Christ came to you and was born in your heart. It is that remarkable parallel that constitutes the good news of Christianity today -- that Jesus can be born in us as certainly as he was born in Bethlehem. Therefore, to us, the angel stands to make his welcome announcement: "Fear not. Fear not, for unto you is born this day a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.'"
As she listened to a sermon for the first time in many years, she smiled. A day of firsts. The first real conversation she'd had with David Rossi, the first time they'd really connected, the first time she would really consider him to be a friend.
While it sucked that it had had to come to this for them to be able to reach this level of mutual respect and kindness, it was never too late... At least they'd had the chance for second chances.
The preacher continued, "No matter what the trial may be, the promise of this verse is that we have a Savior, a Deliverer, especially designed to handle that problem, a Savior who is with us always. If we remember that, and look to him, he will take us through it. He does not promise to take the problem away, but he says he will take us through it. He will strengthen us to face it and will give us courage and peace and joy in the midst of it. Therefore the promise of the angel was 'Do not be afraid, for I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. This is what Christmas must mean to us. No event and no circumstance can come into our lives that will be more than he can handle, more than he can take us through. It is that knowledge that gives the heart peace and puts joy upon the countenance."
A/N: I know that might not have been the most 'in-character' thing for Rossi to do, but I really wanted something where they bonded a little and reconciled their differences because I've always felt that he was more of an ass towards her than the others. Oh, and the lovely words of the preacher are an excerpt from Ray C. Steadman's sermon "The Coming of Joy." I thought it was fitting.
