Chapter 6
**Truths and Omens**
NAZIONALE 51, ROME CITY CENTRE
SUNDAY, MAY 31
21:17 HOURS
"Good evening," Marco greeted her when she opened the door for him.
She noticed for the first time his stunning looks. "Hey," she greeted back, unable to get her eyes off of him. Dark hair and intense grey eyes, lanky form, and that *je ne sais quoi* that made him so appealing. She searched for Nicola in his features but could barely make out any resemblance.
He lifted his bag of groceries on the table and looked at Nicola.
"Oh, hey," Nicola greeted him, looking up from the report. "Everything alright?"
"I could ask you the same question," he replied warmly.
Nicola chuckled. "I guess you could. Come here." He leaned against the headboard and extended his arms.
Marco walked to him, leaned down, and hugged him.
"You met Dana," Nicola said and looked at Scully.
Marco nodded at her, fixing her directly in the eye.
"Where's Mulder?" she asked, feeling his scrutiny.
But before Marco could reply, her phone rang. "It's him. Excuse me," she said and walked outside the room.
Marco sat down near Nicola's legs. "What the hell are you doing?" he whispered to Nicola, his eyes turning cold.
Nicola stared back at him. Despite knowing that Marco would see right through him, he wasn't expecting him to be so blunt about it. "What do you mean?" Nicola asked weakly, feeling like crawling out of his skin.
"Really? That's the best you can do?" Marco challenged him.
"Don't you have anything else to do? Exams? Girls? Anything?" he whispered back, irritated.
"Rosa will be here in twenty minutes," he replied without sentiment. Like father, like son. Nothing was taken lightly or for granted, but emotions were guarded, always.
Nicola's jaw tightened. "I didn't want this to happen."
Marco shook his head, "You'll ruin everything."
Nicola felt tired, "I'm not ruining anything, Marco. She's ruining me."
"Is she?" Marco challenged him further.
"Yes! My God, yes!" he hissed.
Marco stared at him. "Did you ...?" his voice trailed off, unsure he had any right to ask him.
"Nothing happened, Marco," he replied.
"Well, something did, or we wouldn't be having this conversation," Marco remarked.
Nicola ran his hand through his hair, feeling upset. Marco was right. The looks, the smiles, the playful banter, and soft innuendos, touching of hands, lying together in bed, the hugs ... Something did happen. "Nothing that would betray Mulder's trust."
"And what exactly would betray it?" Marco inquired.
Nicola lowered his head. What, indeed, would betray it? Kissing, hugging, having sex? The confidential talks? The stolen glances? The fact that he entrusted her to him and he fell in love with her?
"You know you can't have her," Marco reminded him.
Nicola looked at him, his eyes clouding. "Thanks for stating the obvious."
Marco's lips thinned. "How bad is it?"
"Can't you tell?"
"I was hoping I was wrong," he replied.
"It's all-consuming if you must know."
Marco pursed his lips. "Shall I convene the Pope?"
Nicola chuckled lightly. "I don't think he can do much about it."
"I get it, you know," Marco said after a moment of silence. "She's quite brilliant, passionate, and down to earth."
"You're quite an observer," Nicola noted.
Marco stared at him. "I've been told I got it from my father."
Nicola looked at him, annoyed.
"I'm not sure I should tell you this, and maybe you already know it. But I saw how she looked at you when we found you. You got under her skin. I saw it in her." Marco stared at him.
Nicola sighed heavily. He knew what it meant that he 'saw it in her.' They shared the same gift.
"I'm sorry it took me so long," Scully apologized when she walked to them.
Marco looked at her. "So ... you've been keeping father Nicola busy from what I hear," he remarked, his lips curling.
Scully blushed slightly. She didn't expect a comment like that. Did he know ...? No, Nicola would never talk. Would he? She looked at Nicola, not knowing what to say.
"She knows about us, Marco," Nicola turned to his son, gently reminding him there was no need to pretend about their true relationship.
"Oh, so you told her," he replied overly casually, but his eyes lacked the warmth they were displaying just moments before.
Scully watched the young man and sighed. "I see it bothers you."
He shook his head, "Not really. It's not for my protection but his."
Why was he so tense, she wondered.
He chuckled. "I'm not."
She looked at Nicola, "You could have told me he shares your gift."
Nicola shook his head, "He doesn't want anyone to know."
"It's true," Marco confirmed. "But with exceptions."
Scully's mouth opened and closed. She smiled then. He knew everything. There was no point in pretending otherwise. "I see," she replied. "I'm glad to be one of the exceptions."
Marco smiled warmly then and turned his head to the door.
"You're either this trusting or this indifferent," Mulder said in a grave tone.
Scully turned abruptly to him, swallowing at his words. All three of them stared at him, their souls heavy with apprehension that he was the only one in the room, completely oblivious of what was going on.
Mulder cocked his head. "You left the door unlocked."
Scully forced a smile, and Marco scratched his head. "I think that's my fault."
Rosa walked into the room and greeted all of them shyly. She stood beside Mulder.
"Since we are all gathered, we can get to the specifics," Mulder stated.
"What specifics?" Marco asked.
Mulder turned to him and smiled. "I thought you knew all the answers."
Marco blushed. "Not all of them."
Rosa chuckled lightly, earning an amused look from all of them.
"Tell them what you told me over the phone," Scully encouraged Mulder.
He sighed, feeling reluctant, but they had to know. "Poggia approached me when I was walking here. He says he's your friend." Mulder turned to Nicola.
"Diego Poggia? The commissioner?" Nicola asked.
Mulder nodded.
Nicola's fists clenched. He hated to be right about his assumptions. "We've known each other for almost ten years. He's a trusted friend."
Scully looked questioningly at Mulder.
"What else did he say?" Nicola asked.
"He said we are in danger," Mulder replied.
Rosa fidgeted and walked to Marco. He held her close to him.
"We've upset some very dangerous and important people when we rescued you from your kidnappers. They are prepared to do anything to hide the truth that you've uncovered. A truth that you've known about for quite some time if we are to believe Poggia," Mulder continued, his eyes searching Nicola's.
Nicola looked down into his lap. He reached the point where hiding what he knew was not an option anymore. "Yes, I have."
"Care to shed some light on it?" Marco asked, his voice edgy.
Nicola looked at Marco and then at Scully. He felt sick for having them dragged into this mess.
He exhaled and looked at Mulder. "Nine years ago, Poggia found me through Gino. He asked me to help him with an investigation into a corrupt priest with ties to the Vatican. He was suspected of several financial frauds, sexual crimes, and money laundering. I gathered all the information I could and made contact with him. His name was Reinhard Miller. He was German, very uptight, and distrusting. I had to lean on every tactic I knew to get close to him. But getting close to him, I got close to something else as well."
"What did you find?" Scully asked, folding her hands.
He looked at her. "Something far more disturbing."
"Just tell us," Marco was losing his patience.
Nicola's jaw tightened, "Evidence of a conspiracy at the highest levels of power." His voice mirrored the seriousness of the allegations.
Marco's eyes widened in fear. He was young but knew very well what it meant.
"A conspiracy about what?" Scully asked in a tight voice, feeling fed up with conspiracies.
"Money laundering, financial frauds, drugs, human trafficking, and various unexplained manipulations," Nicola looked at her with guilt-ridden eyes. She swallowed, looking away. The exchange didn't go unnoticed by Mulder. "The extent of it speaks for itself quite loudly," Nicola added.
"The extent of it?" Scully raised her brow. "I'm assuming it extends to Vatican borders?"
"You'd be wrong," Nicola answered her. "It's an international endeavor, tangled in a web of lies, deceit, and unscrupulous self-interests."
"Why didn't you go to the media with it if you had evidence?" Rosa intervened.
"The evidence was circumstantial at best. We had proof of only minor crimes," Nicola explained.
"This is ridiculous," Marco interjected. "Who are these people? And why didn't they know about you back then?"
"Oh, Marco, they did know. They just didn't feel as threatened as they do know. The world is changing," Nicola kept his tone calm.
"Who exactly are we talking about?" Scully asked.
"You know who, Scully," Mulder said before Nicola could reply. "The same people we've been chasing all along."
She looked at him with concern. "I meant who specifically did you come across in your investigations."
"A cardinal that is now dead, a retired chief commissioner of the Italian police and the former maire of Rome," he replied, eyeing her carefully. She was a challenge emotionally and intellectually.
"What makes you think it spreads wider than that?" she inquired.
Mulder smiled to himself. He had been grilled like that many times.
"There were documents about money transactions, receipts signed by CEOs of multinationals like Monforte, SAS, NetWide and others, different bank account numbers from banks in the Caymans and Lichtenstein, investment contracts for obscure projects carrying names as Genesis III, Michelangelo, Shipment ... Gino has these documents."
"You mean had," Rosa corrected him.
He looked at her for a brief moment and turned to Scully. "You have to understand that these are men and women with unprecedented power in the industry, politics, finance, and probably judiciary. You know about some of them, but they mostly live in the shadow of their superiors and leaders, keeping a low profile amid higher echelons of power that allows them to act mostly unseen."
She looked at Mulder. His eyes were dark, unreadable.
"So, it goes deep and wide," Marco observed.
"Yes," Nicola nodded. "Rome, Paris, London, Berlin, Brussels, Rotterdam, Washington, New York, Atlanta, Tel Aviv, Beirut, Tokyo, Beijing, and other places."
"Some of those cities are part of the Strong cities network," Rosa pointed out. "This is bad."
They exchanged looks. Strong cities were a global network of local authorities whose goal was to build resilience to prevent violent extremism. If they were home to these power brokers, then there was no hope of making it better any time soon.
"Makes sense in a way," Mulder said.
Rosa looked at him questioningly.
"Think of it," Mulder continued, looking at all of them, "those in power created this network of cities."
"To protect the way we live," Scully said.
"To protect the way they live," he suggested. "To ensure no one takes their power."
Scully stared at him. Politics had a way of screwing people over and again, but to think they would go to such lengths to fortify their position.
"What exactly did you mean by various unexplained manipulations?" Mulder asked Nicola after moments of silence.
Scully flashed him one of her looks, but he just shrugged.
"Poggia warned me of ceremonies that were taking place within the Vatican walls. He didn't want to speculate who attended them or what went on, but he was crept out for some reason," Nicola explained.
"Come on, isn't it obvious that the clergy was involved at least to some extent? The dad cardinal?" Marco pointed out.
"Probably, but not necessarily," Nicola replied. "I saw only legitimate gatherings, groups of priests praying together, students meeting after lunch for contemplations, Bible readings ... the usual activities religious people take part in."
Mulder looked at Marco. He was holding Rosa tightly, just as he was holding Scully when they fled from death in Germany. But that was another story.
"If ceremonies did take place," Nicola continued, "they had to be labeled as something else or organized in secret. Maybe a passcode was requested or a sign given that granted you access. I never found out. And it might not be the clergy as you understand it, but rather individuals that have been around since the dawn of Christianity with the sole intent of bringing the Church down."
Marco's lips thinned into a line. He wasn't exactly a conspiracy junkie, and the Roman Catholic church wasn't precisely a martyr if one looked at its history.
"But what does this have to do with unexplained manipulations?" Mulder insisted. "Ceremonies are as old as mankind."
"They used drugs on this ceremonies, made people do things they otherwise wouldn't. There was an increase in robberies, attempted murders, and rapes committed by young people and the elderly. They all tested positive for drugs but weren't using otherwise. Poggia was sure it was connected. He swore he would bring these manipulative bastards down, but he couldn't, and neither could I," he paused, "we had no idea how far it went."
"Didn't they have any recollection of these gatherings?" Scully asked.
"No, they all suffered from short-term memory loss," Nicola replied, shifting in bed to ease the pain in his ribs. He looked at them and hesitated for a moment.
Her eyes questioned him, and he lowered his head. "There was something extraordinary some of the victims told us," he said while looking at his intertwined fingers. He swore back then to Poggia that he wouldn't tell a soul about it.
"What?" Mulder's tone was impatient.
"There were stories of a black liquid being poured onto their faces. Some even claimed that the men and women who led these ceremonies weren't human. We didn't know what to make of this, so we just attributed it to drug abuse," he looked up finally and saw Mulder's and Scully's bewildered expression. Rosa was squeezing Marco's hand.
"What is it?" Nicola asked.
"It's not drug abuse," Scully replied, trying to keep her voice calm. "It's an alien virus."
Nicola stared at her. What?
"The Black oil," Mulder added. "It's been around since the dawn of mankind."
"Oh, for Chrissake!" Marco exclaimed.
"Watch your language," Nicola warned him, his eyes turning austere. Marco knew better than to defy him on this.
Mulder looked at both of them with a confused look on his face and then at Scully. She avoided him.
"What do you mean by alien?" Rosa asked, afraid of the answer.
"It didn't originate on Earth," Scully replied. Rosa's disbelief wasn't lost on her. "The human body serves as its host. It's a black substance that has sentience. It can think."
"This is insane," Marco murmured.
"Yeah," Scully exhaled, "it is, but it's also the truth."
Mulder looked at her, knowing full well that the scientist in her had a severe problem recognizing that.
Marco shook his head, "A conspiracy of men and aliens?"
Mulder looked at him sympathetically and then turned to Scully. "I think you've found your soulmate."
Scully's lips quirked up as she observed Marco's incredulous expression dissolve into a weak smile. "You'll do just fine, Marco. I was like you once and have still trouble accepting some of it now."
"And you believe all of it?" Marco asked Nicola.
"I don't know what to believe, but there are forces at work I have yet to understand," Nicola replied sincerely and then smiled. "You should keep an open mind. The ontological shock won't affect you that much if it turns out to be the truth."
Marco glared at him rather grimly, knowing he was making fun of his philosophical discussions about life, love, and fear. "Thanks for that, dad."
Mulder snapped out of his train of thought suddenly. "Dad?!"
Scully looked at him, apology written all over her face. "I found out today, too."
"What? Wait, how?" Mulder asked, dumbfounded.
"A long time ago," Nicola replied shortly, "and as for how ... well, I'm sure you know how."
He looked at Scully for a better explanation. He tried to do the math in his head, knowing Nicola's and Marco's age, but the revelation was too much to process at such a delicate time.
"You didn't say anything," Mulder turned to Marco.
"No, and I thought my father would be quiet about it as well, but it turned out he wasn't," Marco replied.
"When exactly did you find out?" Mulder asked Scully.
She folded her arms, "Earlier, in the bathroom." She tried hard not to fidget at the memory.
Mulder's lips pursed. It never bothered him that she talked with Nicola about personal things, but this felt like more than talking. And the way she was avoiding his eyes. "Is there anything else I should know ... about anything?" he asked, hoping to God the answer was no.
Nicola looked at him with clear eyes. "Yes."
Scully raised her head and stared at him, pleading with her eyes not to say anything more. Marco waited, his breath gone.
Mulder looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Gino's still alive."
Scully looked at him aghast, searching Mulder's eyes for an answer but seeing only his utter disbelief.
Rosa stared at him, perplexed. "What are you talking about?"
"We don't have time to get into details, but I have reason to believe he's still alive."
Rosa's eyes brimmed with tears, making Marco hug her and whisper, "It's okay."
She nodded and wiped her cheeks.
"I saw him dead," Marco said with a hint of anger in his young voice.
"You saw what he wanted you to see," Nicola replied too calmly.
"What?" Marco hissed.
Nicola shook his head, "There's no time for this now, Marco."
Mulder exhaled heavily. The whole situation was starting to get at him, too. "Your father is right. We should get going. Do what you have to prepare for the road. Bring with you warm clothes, too. We meet at 7 a.m. sharp."
"Where are we going?" Scully asked exasperatedly. She hated when he decided everything on his own.
"North," Mulder replied, accompanying Marco and Rosa to the door.
"It's safer that you don't know the exact location for now," he told Marco and Rosa when they arrived at the door. They nodded and said goodbye.
When he closed the door behind them, he felt the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders for the first time. Scully's voice echoed softly in the spacious room, reminding him of all that had happened to them on this perilous journey. He thought Berlin was one of the toughest challenges they faced, both physically and emotionally, but he was wrong.
He leaned his forehead against the cool wooden door and closed his eyes.
They were in East Berlin when a young biochemist Tariq Najjar contacted them, claiming the Syrian and German governments were developing a biological weapon using alien DNA. Scully was more than skeptical, but he let the young man talk. It was only after three weeks that he realized they were being played. Something Scully warned him about from the very beginning.
"I'm telling you this stinks, Mulder," she argued with him after their first meeting with Tariq, but he was too fired up about his story.
It turned out the young man was an operative of the German foreign intelligence service BND, trying to collect information about their findings in Syria and their intentions in Germany. He wanted them to go back to Syria to gather more information on the government's biological weapon program, and when they declined, it all went south.
"I suggest you do it, or I'll detain you for espionage against Germany," he threatened them.
A week later, they crossed the border into Switzerland illegally and on foot, leaving Germany behind and barely escaping agent Tobias Meyer's team, alias Tariq Najjar, in Berlin. It was a cold silent day in the mountains when they stepped on Swiss soil, but he could still hear the engines rev, tires screech, cars honk, voices shout. The suicidal drive toward the Brandenburg gate and out of it was a blur. And he had to thank Scully's resourcefulness, perseverance, and intelligence for getting out of Germany safe and alive. Agent Meyer was good at his job, but he didn't count on Scully's distrust from the start. She arranged for a car swap outside Berlin, and a trunk full of canned food and new clothes without Mulder's knowledge, long before agent Meyer approached them with his request. He held her hand tightly in his lap during their much less ruffle drive to the Swiss border.
They left the car in the woods near the border, taking with them just the necessary things. She told him she shipped their clothes and other belongings to an address in Switzerland just a week before. He stared at her. She had told him it was a random robbery when he entered their apartment, finding everything upside down and half of their things missing. He didn't question it.
"God bless the Schengen regime," she exclaimed as she gasped for breath on the clearing.
"And our new fake British passports," he added.
"What?!" she looked at him in disbelief.
"I got them right before we left Berlin," he explained. "Just in case we needed them. I guess that's my little secret, and may I add that it fades compared to yours."
A smile escaped her lips. It did fade. But fake passports? "I don't have to tell you that's illegal."
He pressed his lips together, "You're right, you don't."
"Who are we?" she asked after moments of uncomfortable silence.
"You know who we are, Scully," he looked at her.
"The names in the passport, Mulder," she reminded him.
He closed his eyes, nodding. He misunderstood her question. "Claire and Michael Johnson."
"Michael ... I could finally call you by your first name," she looked in front of her, lips curling.
"Wouldn't you like that?" he added, annoyed.
"We'll have to be careful," Scully mused. "What happened in Berlin changes everything. Our credit cards, phones ... they can all be linked to us."
"I don't think we're top priorities for the European governments at the moment, Scully," he said. "And agent Meyer is smart enough to know we're not worth the effort. We were just recruits to him."
"It didn't seem like his team lacked effort when they were chasing us on Berlin streets."
"I know. If we had failed to escape Berlin, we would probably be held for questioning right now by the BND, MAD, Crypto, or God knows what other German agency."
She couldn't imagine going back to Syria now with the civil war raging and tearing the country apart.
They were walking a steep forest path when they arrived at a crossroad, and a beautiful orange-brown fox walked up to them. They stopped and stared at it. Life in D.C. didn't exactly prepare them for a life in the wilderness.
"It has to be an omen," she whispered, earning an amused look from him.
"It's magnificent," he whispered back.
"Cunning, too," she added.
"The Indian shamans believe it can also turn into a teacher, providing guidance on finding your way around obstacles," he countered.
"So, what exactly do we do with our guide?" she asked, trying not to mock him.
It was then that the fox turned and walked in the direction it arrived.
Scully looked at Mulder.
"We follow it," he replied without any doubt in his voice and stepped down the steep path.
It was in the small village they arrived at that evening that he learned about father Nicola O'Brien. Scully left him in the dinette of the local Gasthaus, where they rented a room for the night. An American couple, just arriving from Italy, approached him.
"I'm sorry, we couldn't but overhear that you're Americans, too," the middle-aged fairly-looking woman told him.
He smiled, "You got that right."
"This is so nice, meeting fellow Americans on the road, isn't it, George?" she asked the man sitting next to her. He only nodded, too busy to reply with a rib in his mouth.
"Where are you from?" the woman asked.
"Massachusetts, originally, but we live in the UK," he lied.
"The UK? George, wasn't that priest we met in Tuscany from the UK, too?" she looked at her husband, who was now wiping his mouth.
"Sure was, honey. Father Nicola O'Brien," the husband replied.
And that's how it started. They couldn't shut up about him. So intelligent, so intriguing, so educated, and open-minded. He almost started to yawn when George told him father Nicola was former MI5 with ties to the Vatican.
"It's all hush, hush," George explained and hinted at his wife. "Laura overheard two locals talking about him. She knows some Italian."
"I bet he knows a lot of secrets," Laura commented.
"I see," Mulder said. "We might pay him a visit. Sounds like he wouldn't mind. Where exactly did you say he lives?"
"It's a small town in Tuscany. Montepulciano, right, George?"
"That's right, honey," George confirmed.
He told Scully he might have found a way into the Vatican that night, and a week later, he found him. Father O'Brien. So fascinating then, and so troubling now.
"Are you alright?"
He turned, hearing Scully's voice behind him.
She looked at him with concerned eyes.
"Yeah ... yeah, I'm alright," he replied.
Had he chosen the other path in the forest that day, he would not have to flee again and patch up his relationship with Scully in a hurry because some prominent bastards found out they knew about their sick plans and depraved actions.
"What are you doing?" she asked, searching his eyes.
"Thinking about omens," he replied, looking at her. Her blue eyes were razor blades, slicing his impulsive nature. He looked away and sighed. How was he going to mend it this time? He walked away from her and into the spacious room where Nicola was still lying on the bed.
She heard him say something to Nicola and walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. This was going to be hell before they made it right. If they made it right. She wanted to talk to him that evening, but it all changed after receiving his call earlier. A change of plans, he said, before she could tell him they needed to talk.
"It's a mess, isn't it?" Nicola asked her when she sat at the table.
She looked at him with perplexed eyes and nodded. "What did he tell you?" she asked.
"To sleep tight," he lied, his face unreadable.
"Nicola," she pleaded, "you don't need to protect me."
Nicola's jaw tightened. "He told me we were going to a place where wild foxes walked free."
"Foxes?" she repeated.
Nicola nodded, his lips turning up at the corners.
"You think it's funny?!" she asked.
"Don't you remember the orange fox?" Mulder asked as he appeared from the bathroom.
Orange fox? The magnificent orange fox that guided them into this mess? "We are going to Switzerland?"
Both men nodded.
"Why? What's there?" she asked.
"A small village. It's the perfect hiding place in this situation," Nicola replied.
"You knew about this?" she turned to Mulder.
"Poggia suggested the place. One of his cousins has a cottage in the mountains. I didn't want Marco and Rosa to know," he explained.
She pursed her lips. He could have told her over the phone, but then again, they were probably listening to all their communications.
"Won't they find us? They probably know about Poggia's secret hideouts."
"I don't think so," Nicola replied. "I know Poggia's cousin. She has lived in Iceland for the last 12 years alone. She uses the cottage very rarely. And besides, she's a painter. Who would suspect an old painter?"
He made it sound so uncomplicated, but she feared they got too deep into it. An international criminal consortium was operating in some of the most developed cities worldwide with key figures everywhere, and then the four of them. Three former agents and two post-graduate students.
She ran her hand across her face, fatigue setting deep into her bones. "I need to get some rest." She stood up and walked toward the bed only to stop herself mid-journey.
She looked at Nicola and then at Mulder. Of course, living with two male egos, a woman had to solve the practical problems on her own.
Mulder raised his head questioningly at her while Nicola just looked at her.
"What is it?" Mulder finally asked.
"Well, that's a rich one," Scully replied, "two of the finest intuitive and analytical minds I have ever met, and yet it didn't occur to either of you that there's only one bed."
Nicola's lips broadened into an infectious smile he tried in vain to stifle.
"Oh, so you think this is funny, too?" she sounded irritated.
"No, not that, only what has just passed Mulder's mind."
Mulder looked a little embarrassed.
"And what would that be?" Scully folded her hands.
Nicola looked at Mulder, his eyes challenging. "Shall I tell her?"
Scully stared at both of them. What was happening here? She could see Mulder's embarrassment, the silent plea to just let it go.
Mulder shook his head in surrender. This wasn't the usual love triangle. This was a marriage of thoughts, feelings, and beliefs. His, hers, and Nicola's. Could he really blame her that she confided in him, talked to him, cared for him? Could he? With all his selfish acts, unannounced trips, and impulsive decisions?
"Yeah, you can tell her," Mulder said, finally, "but bear in mind that she's not going to appreciate it."
"You know what? Forget it," she interjected, his arms tightly folded.
"You sure?" Nicola teased her. "It's not exactly a bad idea."
He got her attention now, but she wouldn't succumb so quickly to this mind-reading thought-sensing bravado. "I think I already know, and I think you're going to test the idea on your own."
"What do you mean?" Mulder asked, concerned at what she had in mind.
"I'm not sleeping here tonight," she stated and walked to the couch to gather her stuff.
Mulder's eyes showed a streak of fear, "Scully?"
She took off her robe and put on her jeans, sneakers, and grey sweater. She avoided looking at both of them, or she would have stayed. Zipping her bag, she looked at Mulder at last. "I'll see you in the morning," she told him and then looked at Nicola. "Sleep tight, Nicola."
With that, she walked out of the hotel room and onto the busy street. A sense of freedom enveloped her, and she breathed in the night air. Her eyes closed on their own. They wanted to play with her? Make her the problem? Fine, let them enjoy each other's company now. She fought hard inside before leaving them alone in the room, but now she realized it was the only right thing to do.
She put the duffel bag around her shoulder and walked down the street. Screw Poggia, screw the international conspiracy, screw Nicola and his magnetic intensity, and yes, screw Mulder and his need to fight the future.
When exactly did she become a prerequisite, she wondered. And how did she manage time after time to find men that always tried so hard to protect her, ending only in smoldering her? Jack, Daniel, Jerse (yes, she counted that one, too), Mulder, Nicola. She was fed up with it. And she was fed up being in a foreign country, leaving an uncertain life, sharing her days with a priest that she got to know too well, and witnessing her relationship with Mulder deteriorate with every passing minute.
She could feel eyes watching her, so she mingled in the crowd and disappeared into the night. It was only after twenty minutes of walking that she took her phone and dialed Rosa's number.
"Hey," Rosa's young gentle voice greeted her.
"Rosa, I'm sorry to bother you," she apologized, "is there any chance I could sleep at your place tonight."
She could tell Rosa was surprised at the sudden change of plans, but she didn't wait long to reply. "Yes, of course, I'm on 60 Via Volturno."
Via Volturno. Where did she know that street from? She turned and looked at the building behind her. She was standing right in front of 60 Via Volturno. So much about omens. "Actually, Rosa, I'm already here."
VIA VOLTURNO, ROME CITY CENTRE
SUNDAY, MAY 31
23:41 HOURS
"I'm thankful for your help, Rosa," Scully said as she sat on the comfortable couch, a mug of hot tea in her hand.
Rosa smiled, her blue eyes shining with youthful innocence. She had eyes like that once before reality came crashing in. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders as she reached for her mug. She was enthralling. No wonder Marco lost it for her.
"It's okay," she replied, her tone warm and soothing. "I'm not sure I should ask you what happened."
Scully smiled weakly. "It's personal, but it's only fair that I give you an explanation under the circumstances."
Rosa leaned back on the couch. "There's no need. I can imagine what happened."
"You can?" Scully raised her brows, her tone higher than intended. Was she ...?
Rosa shook her head, "I didn't mean that. I'm not like Marco or his father. I just noticed that something was going on between you, Nicola and Mulder. Never mind, it's none of my business."
Scully had to close her mouth. So, it was that noticeable. She sighed and looked down at the hot mug, warming her hands. She talked with her mother. Why did she feel like telling Rosa everything? "When did you notice it?"
Rosa inhaled deeply, knowing how difficult Marco could be and imagining what it was like to live with two individuals like Nicola and Mulder. "When Mulder found out about Nicola being Marco's father."
Scully nodded, "That was an awkward moment."
"You'll sort it out," Rosa tried to reassure her. "I know Nicola can be a handful and a very intense person, but he has a kind heart, just like Marco."
"What makes you think he's the problem?" Scully asked, afraid to hear the answer. Did Marco tell her?
Rosa's brows furrowed lightly. "Isn't he?"
Scully leaned back, her shoulders slouched. Whether it was woman intuition or excellent observing skills, or something else entirely, Rosa knew. But if Rosa saw it that clearly, Mulder sure as hell did, too.
"I'm sorry we pulled you in this mess," Scully said sincerely. "You have a life, plans ... now it's all in jeopardy."
Rosa looked her in the eye. "Dana, you don't need to apologize to me, and you certainly don't owe me an explanation. These things ... they happen. I have a life full of plans and will still have it when this is over." There was a strength in Rosa's voice and her eyes that went unnoticed until now. It awakened something powerful and hopeful in Scully's soul.
The two women looked into each other's eyes. Scully nodded slowly and broke the silence, "We should go to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
Rosa smiled and stood up, handing Scully a blanket and pillow. Scully admired her tall, elegant figure as she moved effortlessly around the living room. There was something serene about her presence. Maybe it was the fact that she was spending time and talking to a woman after such a long time, or perhaps it was just Rosa's warm character that calmed her so profoundly.
Rosa switched off the light and headed towards the door. "Oh, and Dana," she said before exiting the room, turning her head to Scully, "you do realize that you have them both at your mercy?"
Forget profoundly calm now. "I don't want them at my mercy. I want them by my side." Nicola as a dear friend and Mulder as a partner in all possible meanings of the word, she thought.
"They already are by your side. Maybe it's you ... maybe you got tired of a pilgrim's life," Rosa suggested, her tone gentle, non-accusing.
"A pilgrim's life?" Scully repeated, arching her brow.
Rosa nodded, "A life spent searching for the truth."
Scully's lips thinned, and her eyes glistened with sadness. "I'll see you in the morning," she told Rosa, ignoring her comment.
"Sleep well," Rosa replied and left her alone in the living room.
She was relieved to be on her own at last. It was all starting to get too complicated, too surreal, too all-consuming. Rosa struck a nerve with her comment. She loved Mulder and needed him. And she also started to need Nicola, his gentle soul, his caring nature. Maybe she didn't deserve either of them, or perhaps she was meant to end up alone. She ran her hand through her hair and closed her eyes. She learned a long time ago that she should never believe everything that went through her mind when the night was at its darkest hour.
VIA VOLTURNO, ROME CITY CENTRE
SUNDAY, JUNE 1
06:06 HOURS
"I've never asked you what exactly is it that you do," Scully said in an apologizing tone while sipping her morning coffee.
Rosa looked at her with a shy smile on her face. "I'm a post-grad student. I studied Economics and International Relations, and then I worked for the ministry of foreign affairs for a year and a half."
"What do you study now?" Scully asked.
"Peace and security," she replied.
"I see," Scully contemplated, "Is that how you met Marco?"
"Oh, no, I met him at the Circolo. We both share a passion for music."
Scully smiled, remembering how it was like to be young and vibrant with energy. "He's a smart young man. Handsome, too."
Rosa's lips curled, "And stubborn."
"I guess he gets that from his father," Scully commented.
Rosa smiled broadly, knowing full well how much alike Nicola and Marco were. "You seem very fond of him," Rosa tried.
"Who? Marco?" Scully asked.
"No, not Marco. Nicola," Rosa replied.
Scully blushed a little at the unexpected question, feeling contrite. But then ... she came to this girl in the middle of the night with no clear explanation, and she offered her a shelter without pesky questions. "I do," Scully nodded, looking at her hand and then at Rosa, "probably more than I should."
"I had a crush on him when I was a little girl. Uncle Gino used to tease me about it all the time in front of Nicola. I felt mortified, but Nicola just laughed."
Scully's lips quirked at the corners. "Thank you for being so candid about it."
Rosa smiled back, "He's a remarkable man, honest, intelligent, and intuitive. You can imagine my astonishment when I learned of Marco."
"I shouldn't be asking you this," Scully apologized in advance, "but I was wondering - did you ever -," Scully's couldn't put it correctly.
"Have feelings for him later on?" Rosa helped her out.
Scully nodded, mortally ashamed. It was so unlike her to ask things like this.
"I adore him, but the infatuation is long gone," Rosa spoke quietly. "I was just a little girl, unaware of many things."
But Scully wasn't just a little girl. She was a woman aware of many pitfalls and trials. She sighed. "These things ... they happen without rhyme or reason sometimes."
"Sometimes," Rosa agreed. "But not always."
Scully sighed and looked at Rosa, "I'm sorry for dropping on you like this."
"I can assure you far worse things have been dropped on me," Rosa replied with a smirk.
Scully looked into her eyes and smiled gratefully. "Can I ask you something else?" Scully asked then, her face getting more serious.
"Sure."
"What do your parents do?"
Rosa hesitated for a moment, her eyebrow curling. "My father is the general president of the Supreme Court of Cassation, and my mother works as the Attorney General, but," she paused, "she's also the former Minister of the Interior."
She understood now Rosa's concern. Her mother would probably tear the police force upside down to find her if she went suddenly missing. Not to mention all the other implications related to both her parent's professions. "And she never mentioned anything about this shadowy criminal cabal organization?" Scully asked.
"No, never," Rosa shook her head. "But then again, she didn't talk much about work. It was a rule to keep work out of family life."
"Did you tell her about it?" Scully inquired.
"Only that I have to leave to do some research on the latest developments in international cyberattacks. She doesn't know Marco's coming with me. And she doesn't know about you or Mulder."
Scully could tell it was hard for her to lie to her parents, but the danger she would put them in if she told the truth was much more prominent. "How long have you and Marco been together?" Scully asked, changing the subject.
"Six weeks," Rosa's cheeks reddened.
Scully disregarded the raw emotions showing on her face. It was apparent she got it bad for Marco. Just as bad as she got it for Mulder. And now for Nicola. Good God.
"I've known him for quite some time," Rosa continued. "Sometimes it feels like I've known him forever."
"Yeah, I know the feeling," Scully added, thinking about Mulder.
The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly. Every second that passed was a second bestowed onto their enemies.
"We should go," Scully interrupted the silence.
Rosa's lips thinned, "I'll call, Marco."
"No phones," Scully reminded her.
Rosa closed her eyes for a moment, "Of course."
NAZIONALE 51, ROME CITY CENTRE
MONDAY, JUNE 1
07:02 HOURS
"We don't have a lot of time," Mulder said as they stood in the hotel bedroom with their unzipped suitcases lying on the floor.
Marco turned to him, "My dad went out to place a call to father Leonardo. Something about his absence from the parish."
Mulder nodded in understanding and looked at Rosa. She was quieter than usual.
"What's the plan, Mulder?" Scully asked while ordering her medical bag.
He turned to her, "To travel to a safe place."
She turned to him. "You know it's more complicated than that." They could be caught in numerous ways. Phone-tracking, car-tracking, video-tracking, and other forms of tracking ran rampant across the U.S. and Europe. It was a fugitive's nightmare to live in a post-modern world.
"I know that, Scully," Mulder responded flatly, "but Poggia is going to help us get out of the city. And I've taken some precautions."
"We bought new pre-paid phones with cash yesterday. We'll buy SIM cards at our destinations which is still unknown to me. But I'm guessing it's Switzerland or even farther up north since we also got blankets, bivy sacks for everyone, and provisions for three weeks," Marco jumped in.
Scully looked at Marco. He was focused, edgy, much like all of them. But there was something in his eyes that she couldn't quite read. Something deep, untouched, pristine. But also something untamed, hard to control, and completely unpredictable. He nodded slightly at her as if confirming what she had just conjured in her mind. Seeing his eyes on her, she winced but concealed it instantly.
"I'm done," Nicola announced as he entered the bedroom.
"Great," Marco replied and turned to him, his tone far from excited.
"What's wrong?" Nicola asked, seeing Mulder's pale expression as he watched the news on his phone.
Mulder looked up, "We're on the news."
Scully's eyes widened, "What?!"
Mulder nodded, fear written all over his face.
"Who exactly is on the news? All of us?" Rosa asked. If she was afraid, she didn't let on anything.
Mulder turned to her, "No, no ... Scully, Nicola, and I. It says we are wanted for father Gino's murder."
"Well, fuck them," Marco said. "You didn't do it. That's all that matters."
"No," Rosa interjected, "you don't understand. It'll make it extremely difficult for them to get out of the country now."
Marco's eyebrows creased, "No, not necessarily."
"What do you mean?" Nicola asked him.
"You still have those fake passports, don't you?" Marco asked Mulder.
Mulder nodded, dumbfounded, "I never told you ..."
"Never mind," Marco cut him off. "Scully told my dad."
"What?" she looked at Scully, but she put on her professional, no-nonsense look.
"Mulder, you do have them?" Marco asked again.
"Yeah, I do."
"That's great. We need to get fake IDs as well," Marco said, turning to Rosa.
"What? No!" Rosa protested. "You know that could put my parents in danger."
"Rosa, your parents will be in a far greater danger if you travel with your true I.D.," Marco insisted. "Think about it — they might know nothing now, but once they discover that you are Gino's niece ..." his voice drifted.
"They will be looking for you everywhere," Mulder finished for Marco.
"Wait," Nicola interfered, "where are you going to find passports so quickly?"
"Let's just say I can," he responded. There, the untamed, uncontrollable was now in plain view.
There were long moments of silence. The news lowered the morale, and Marco's idea, although reasonable, made them tense. There was no way Poggia could help them as easily as before.
"Go," Nicola said, putting an end to worries. "Be careful, and remember -."
"I know. Fidelis et fortis," Marco replied and took Rosa's hand in his. "Are you going with me?" he asked her in a gentle, hopeful tone.
Rosa looked at him, blue eyes full of mixed emotions. Scully could see her struggle, knew it intimately. How many times had Mulder invoked those emotions in her? She looked at Mulder and met his soft gaze. He must have thought the same thing, looking at Marco and Rosa. It had to be precious having someone attuned to your thoughts that way. "I am," she heard Rosa say.
Marco sighed in relief and smiled. "We'll be back in an hour."
"Watch out, Marco," Nicola called after him but heard only the door close. "Dammit," he cursed under his breath.
"He's going to be alright," Mulder reassured him. "He's bright and resourceful."
Nicola looked at him, "I need to see that article." Mulder handed him his phone.
"Does this change our route?" Scully asked.
"Not significantly," Nicola replied, his eyes fixed on the phone display. "It doesn't say your names. It just says you're an American couple, and there's a physical description of both of you. But it says everything about me—almost my whole curriculum. What have you done, Gino?" he said more to himself than to them. "I need to get in touch with father Leonardo again."
"Who is he?" Mulder asked then.
"Close friend of Gino and the leader of Soldiers and Pilgrims," Nicola replied, looking him in the eye. He knew Mulder was skeptical of the organization.
"Soldiers and Pilgrims?" Scully arched her brow. "I almost forgot about it."
"It's supposed to be a secret, known just to the higher ranks of Jesuits and the selected few outside the order," he pointed out. "I told both of you because of extraordinary circumstances."
"Any chance you could tell us more?" Scully asked with a defying look.
Nicola sighed, looked down, and then up at her again, "The organization was founded in the 16th century, following the teachings of Saint Ignatius of Loyola. It's mostly unstructured and informal, but it has its leader and assistants. These are carefully chosen men within the Jesuit order and sometimes out of it who help fellow Jesuits, monks, priests, and sometimes even laypersons in times of great need. They are men beyond reproach, honest to a fault, and highly educated."
"How exactly do they help them?" Mulder asked warily.
"Morally, financially. Whatever they need, actually, as long as it doesn't go against the teachings of Saint Ignatius," Nicola explained. He understood all too well Mulder's distrust. The Church had its many flaws and long lists of wrongdoings.
Scully's brow arched a little when she processed Nicola's explanation. "I'm sorry, how do they know who needs help and how does even one turn to them for help if they are so secretive?"
He looked at her, his eyes vulnerable and luminous, and sighed, "They gather information discreetly but incessantly. They make contact first, usually."
"So, they contacted you now?" Scully pressed further.
"Not exactly," Nicola replied, his voice faltering all of a sudden.
"What do you mean?" Mulder's eyes showed hints of anger and confusion. He trusted Nicola, but he was starting to test his patience.
Nicola inhaled deeply, "When I said I was helping out Poggia in the investigation, it wasn't the whole truth. I was also helping Soldiers and Pilgrims."
Scully looked at Mulder and saw his astonishment.
Nicola sat on the couch and looked down for a brief moment. So many secrets, so little time.
"Gino was head of the Soldiers and Pilgrims at that time, wasn't he?" Mulder asked, his eyes fixed on Nicola.
Nicola swallowed, "Yes, he was."
Scully's lips parted, but she couldn't utter anything. The fact that he held back so much, that he didn't trust them as they trusted him, when he knew what was at stake from the very beginning, drove a pin deep into her heart. Right there, where all her insecurities lay.
"I should have told you," Nicola said when he saw her expression, "all of it." He turned to Mulder. "But I couldn't betray Gino's trust."
She didn't know that would be her breaking point. She didn't believe she would lose it like that in front of Mulder. But something inside her rose and demanded more than he was giving. Her eyes flared at him. "You couldn't break Gino's trust?! We came to you in good faith, Nicola, explained everything. I talked for hours at a time with you about personal things! And you never said a damn thing about any of this!"
"Scully," Mulder spoke in a guarded tone, trying to calm her outburst.
"Don't," she warned him and turned again to Nicola. "I trusted you."
Her eyes bore deep into his very being. He felt his chest tying into a painful knot. The last thing he wanted was to upset her, much less betray her trust. He looked at her with sorrowful eyes, "I know."
"Scully, you're making it too personal," Mulder interfered.
She shot him a furious look. "Maybe you should have played by the book a few years ago, and I would have been left with something more than just personal matters."
That hit him more than she wanted to. His eyes clouded with repressed emotions that he managed to keep at bay until then. "Maybe you shouldn't have bared your soul to our good father so impatiently and completely."
She swallowed hard. Her cheeks burned with anger and guilt. Her eyes stared into his. The air almost crackled. "Because you so kindly invited me to join you on your goose chases."
Feeling utterly ashamed and entirely out of control, Nicola sat on the couch and observed the meltdown of a relationship, friendship, and companionship all at once. His throat burned and ached with words unsaid, his heart raced, and his head started to throb again.
"Is that what you think of it? Of our search?"
"Does it matter what I think?"
"It always matters, Scully."
He could hear them speaking in a calmer tone now, although the edge was still there.
"You have an interesting way of showing it."
"All I did — I did it to protect you!"
"You did it because you decided it was more convenient for you to do it alone. Because you like to run around, expecting the next great unbelievable thing. You never stop."
He could hear them, but his vision started to blur. He got up slowly, helping himself with his hands. If he only could reach the bathroom, drink some water.
"I don't just run around. There are leads—"
There was a thud.
"Nicola!" Scully cried out and quickly knelt beside him. Mulder knelt to him as well, trying to understand what had just happened. "Can you hear me?"
He could hear her. Even if thousands of voices called out to him, he could still make out her own. But he couldn't speak. Something was wrong. The world was disappearing, darkness surged from cimmerian corners of nothingness, and slowly her voice faded into the darkest of nights.
Mulder looked at Scully, "What's happening to him?"
"Nicola!" she called out to him again, but there was no answer. "He's got a pulse. No signs of a heart attack. Lift his legs."
Mulder did as told and lifted Nicola's legs. "Come on, big boy, come on," Mulder encouraged him. And just before Scully started CPR on him, Nicola slowly opened his eyes.
"He's okay," Mulder stated the obvious, relief flooding his voice. "Welcome back."
Scully brushed Nicola's forehead with her fingers and exhaled loudly. "Vasovagal syncope."
"Brought on by what?" Mulder asked, helping Nicola get up and sit on the bed.
"It happens when the body overreacts to certain triggers, such as the sight of blood, high body temperature, crowded places, or extreme emotional distress," Scully replied, checking Nicola's eyes. "You should be fine."
"I guess we can rule out blood, body temperature, and crowded places," Mulder remarked, his tone somewhat gentler now.
"Can you speak?" Scully asked Nicola.
He nodded, "Yes, I'm alright."
"I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. You're still affected by all that has happened," she apologized, but he shook his head.
"It's not your fault," he replied, ashamed to look Mulder in the eye.
"I need to measure your pressure," she said, rolling up his sleeves.
He helped her, and when the little machine ended beeping, she finally relaxed. "It's within normal values."
"Thank God," Nicola half-joked, making Mulder chuckle for a brief moment. He was standing right beside Scully, and Nicola looked at him for the first time since he regained consciousness.
There was an understanding between the two men that Scully saw before but had never given it much thought. She wondered what they talked about when she left them alone the night before.
"Things of life," Nicola said and looked at her with soulful eyes.
She pressed her jaw together. The syncope episode didn't just make things right between them. She folded her hands and kept her composure. "It must be your favorite subject," she commented dryly.
"It's in my job description," he said softly with no intention to argue.
"Yeah? Which one?" she retorted.
Nicola closed his eyes and nodded. Looking at his open suitcase, he said, "I need to change clothes. Marco and Rosa should be here soon." With that, he went to the bathroom, leaving Mulder and Scully alone.
She looked at Mulder and saw the carefully hidden sadness in his hazel eyes. She wanted to say something, wipe away the pain. "We need to finish up packing, too."
"I'm finished," Mulder replied and repeated, "finished." He felt exhausted. Learning that she talked with Nicola about things she used to speak with him and him only, sparked unpleasant thoughts that gnawed at his soul. Was it just talking or something more? He couldn't picture her betraying him, but God knew he hadn't exactly been the partner she needed him to be.
She looked at him with profound unsettling guilt over something she didn't do and yet felt like she did it all and more. Whether it was a slowly developing guilt complex or simply false guilt, it didn't matter to her anymore. All pretexts were off. "We need to talk."
He looked back at her, "Feels like that's all we've been doing for the last few months."
"No, Mulder, I mean really talk," she pushed.
"So talk to me," he urged her.
She lowered her head and looked back up at him. "I miss you."
The sincerity in her eyes and voice made him swallow. Hard. He was prepared for sarcasm, irony, even defiance, but not simple heart-wrenching honesty.
He stepped to her, closing the distance between them, and searched her hand. He kissed the center of her palm, making her close her eyes, and placed it on his chest.
She looked into his eyes, scared, honest, loving eyes. Her whole world resided in those glimmering hazel pools.
"I miss you more," he rasped, voice full of emotion. He was fighting his tears.
A sob tore through her, and he pulled her into his arms, embracing her tiny form.
"Why do we do this to ourselves?" she asked.
He swallowed and closed his eyes. "I don't know."
"We still need to talk," she insisted, her cheek pressed into his chest.
He hummed, "I know."
Nicola stepped out of the bathroom. He stopped when he saw them hugged tightly. He lowered his gaze and went for his suitcase. A pang resonated through his heart when he saw her love for Mulder, confirming yet again what he already knew. Mulder was the love of her life, while he was just an amorous anomaly.
She let Mulder go reluctantly and wiped her cheeks. This cohabitation was starting to feel uncomfortable, and it was only the beginning. Mulder brushed her shoulder gently, and she smiled weakly at him.
"We got them," Marco exclaimed as he entered the door with Rosa but saw immediately that something was wrong. He was about to ask what happened, but Scully implored him with her face not to. He pursed his lips in reluctance.
"I saw my mother, spoke to her," Rosa cut the awkward silence.
Nicola raised his head, concern written all over his face. They all waited for her to go on.
"She knows about the organization. Always has," Rosa's voice trembled. "That's why she made it an imperative not to show her link to the Vatican, to uncle Gino."
"What did you tell her?" Nicola asked, afraid of what he might hear.
"I didn't have to tell her anything. She figured it on her own that something must be very wrong if I'm taking a leave right before my exams," she paused.
Mulder felt for the girl. She was thrown suddenly into the mayhem of corruption, lies, conspiracies, and murderous intentions. So young, so full of life, so ingenuous. Much like Scully when he first met her.
"She first learned of this group as a young attorney, and uncle Gino confirmed her worst fears," Rosa went on.
"Does she know where you're going or whom with?" Mulder asked.
"No, she didn't want to know," Rosa replied, her eyes shot read.
Marco circled her shoulders and pulled her into his arms. Mulder looked at Scully. He wanted to hug her again.
"Does your father know anything?" Nicola asked then.
Rosa shook her head, "No, my mom never told him. And if he found out some other way, he never said anything."
"But she knows about you," Rosa looked at Scully.
Scully's eyebrows arched, "Me? What do you mean?"
"She knows Clara," Rosa explained. "They are good friends, and she spoke highly of you."
Scully didn't know what to say. "Small world."
"Yeah," Marco agreed.
"She probably knows that we're together in this. It isn't that hard to connect the dots if you know what you're looking for or looking at. And she was relieved that a person of your character is with me," Rosa added, looking at Scully.
"Did she say anything about me?" Mulder chimed in.
Rosa turned to him and hesitated. Marco tried to control himself but burst into laughter, earning a confused look from all of them.
"What?" Mulder asked in a hurt tone.
"Go on, tell him," Marco encouraged Rosa.
She sighed, "She said you're very charming and handsome, but a little out there."
Scully looked at Mulder's hurt ego and couldn't contain her chuckle.
"As long as I'm charming and handsome," Mulder commented.
But Nicola was in no mood to joke or laugh. He was afraid they wouldn't make it out of Rome. Hell, he was starting to be scared they wouldn't make it out of the hotel. "We should be going. Father Leonardo set us up with a car, but we need to get to Piazza San Pietro first."
"Isn't that a little too risky? Piazza San Pietro?" Marco asked.
"Yeah, but it's also full of people, which makes it easier for us to hide and evade," Nicola explained.
Scully sensed his uneasiness, even fear. It was a hard time for him. One of his closest friends was either killed or gone missing, his relationship with her was without question a burden he did not need right now, and now he was wrongfully accused of murder.
But there was also an aura of resilience around him, a confidence and poise that could not be shaken. She watched him intently as he rose from the couch, instructing Marco and Rosa to meet him in Piazza San Pietro in thirty minutes. He was a force on its own. Mulder was right about that. His black clothes and priestly collar were gone. Clad in dark blue jeans and a grey light sweater, he could have been about anyone. She noticed he let his stubble grow, giving him a rougher, more seasoned look. Far from that boyish appearance, he sported just a few days ago. Far from that relaxed and easy-going manner, he projected all the time.
"You should avoid everything that leaves a digital footprint," Nicola warned Rosa and Marco. "No credit cards, no phones, no internet, no GPS. We don't call each other by our names in front of others, we don't stay too long in the same spot, and we act as we belong right where we are at any given moment. We'll take your suitcases. You will draw much less attention without them."
"It seems like you've never quit your MI5 job," Scully noted when Rosa and Marco left the room.
He looked at her with the corner of his eye but said nothing. He was serious, reserved, eerily calm. It amazed her how he could switch into agent mode so quickly and efficiently. But then again, that was what Mulder often told her that she switched in a matter of no time into doctor mode.
"Always drawn to control, aren't you?"
Her eyes widened a little, "What-?"
"Yeah, you are," he pushed further. "You're intrigued by that fine line between letting go and holding on forever."
She swallowed. There was something dark in his stare. Something she had never seen before in him. Where was this coming from?
"We have deep souls, Dana," he said in a resigned tone. "One never knows how deep."
Her lips thinned, and she contemplated whether it was wise to carry on this conversation. Mulder was about to walk out of the bathroom at any second. She watched Nicola intently. He was sitting on the couch folding something with his fingers, wrapped in his thoughts yet mindful. He wouldn't look at her.
"Who's we?" she asked then.
He looked at her for a second and resumed whatever he was doing with his fingers. "Whoever you want it to be."
He wasn't making any sense. And she hated it when someone wasn't making any sense. "You're bored, aren't you?"
This time he looked at her wide-eyed, "Bored?"
She cleared her throat. Why was it so dry? "You heard me. You're shocked by the latest events, but you are also bored to the core."
Bored? Was he? But before he would allow himself to go into that abyss, he just replied, "I don't see how I could be bored."
"Cut the bullshit, Nicola," her voice was suddenly sharp. "Do you really want to know about me? How hard is it for me to relinquish control? Is that what you want?"
He saw the fire in her eyes and responded in the like. "Yes."
She stared at him, lips parted and eyes angry. His answer barely registered in her mind. Yes. Yes?
"Yes, dammit," he stood up. "I want to know. I want to see it, I want to feel it, I want to taste it." His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes ablaze and raw.
"Stop it," she warned him, "we've been through this. There's nothing we can do about it." She couldn't understand what brought this on. Unless ... Of course, the hug she shared with Mulder. He saw it. "Get your bearings together. There's a long road in front of us."
The intensity of his stare subsided, but she could tell the fierceness of his feelings didn't. A soft sigh escaped her lips. This wasn't a good time to get into fights and clarifications.
Mulder stepped out of the bathroom in new clothes and shaved. Despite all, he looked fresh and handsome. "It's time to go."
"Yeah," she replied and grabbed her suitcase and medical bag.
Mulder zipped his bag and walked to the door, his suitcase and jacket on his shoulder.
Nicola looked at her and extended his arm, "Right after you." He took the remaining suitcases and switched off the lights.
They left the room in silence, unaware of the storm that was coming.
TO BE CONTINUED.
"I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
― Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken
"He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?
He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.
I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,
And went with half my life about my ways."
― A. E. Housman, He would not stay for me, and who can wonder
"Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,
but to be fearless in facing them.
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but
for the heart to conquer it."
― Rabindranath Tagore
"This body is from my humanly father and this soul is from my heavenly father, death is for my body not for my soul."
― P.S. Jagadeesh Kumar