Loneliness of Evening (1 of 1)
By:  Tess
E-mail:  tnv099@aol.com
Distribution:  Please ask first
Spoilers:  Post Requiem
Rating:  G
Content SAR
Keywords:  V MSR
Disclaimer:  Characters contained herein 
are the sole property of 1013, CC and Fox.  
This is a hobby and I'm making no money 
from it.  Similarly, I have no tie to the song, 
other than the fact that I think it's lovely. 
R&H get all the credit.

Summary:  She waits and prays

Author's notes: This is number 11 in my 
series inspired by the works of R&H. I hope 
that as you read the stories, you read the 
lyrics to the songs first.  While I don't insert 
the songs into the actual plot, I do think that 
they help to set the mood.  And they're 
wonderfully romantic songs.

I wanted to write a story that would explore 
how Scully's faith might sustain her through 
this troubling time.  For those of you who 
don't know what a novena is...the short 
answer for lack of a better term, is that it is a 
prayer service held by Catholics (and 
maybe other faiths, I don't know). Over the 
course of 9 days or 9 weeks, you offer up 
prayers for a special intention


Loneliness of Evening
By:  Tess
E-mail:  tnv099@aol.com	
http://acovington.home.mindspring.com/tess
/index.html


Loneliness of Evening

I wake in the loneliness of sunrise
When the deep purple heaven turns blue
And start to pray as I pray each day
That I'll hear some word from you

I lie in the loneliness of evening
Looking out on a silver flaked sea
And ask the moon, oh how soon, how soon
Will my love appear to me?

   Rodgers and Hammerstein - Cinderella


Loneliness of Evening (1 of 1)
By:  Tess
E-mail:  tnv099@aol.com


She awoke with the dawn, listlessly 
watching the sky turn from purple to pink 
and then to a brilliant blue.  It was going to 
be a beautiful day.  How can that be, she 
wondered.  How can the sun shine so 
brightly when my world is falling apart?

Early mornings and late evenings were the 
worst time for her.  Their relationship had 
changed for the intimate only a few months 
before he was taken from her, but she 
keenly missed Mulder as if she had spent 
the last 36 years wrapped in his arms.

Scully rested her hand on the swell of her 
belly where their child was sleeping.  
Sheltered.  Protected.  Nurtured.  Safe.  The 
doctor in her knew that the baby was 
healthy and developing normally.  The 
mother in her was anxious.  She worried 
that despite the care she took - eating 
properly, getting enough sleep and resting 
when her body demanded it - that her 
melancholy was somehow hurting the baby.  
The moments of joy and exhilaration that 
came with this pregnancy were 
overshadowed by a nearly overwhelming 
sense of despair as the weeks and months 
dragged on without Mulder.

Heaving a sigh, she forced herself out of 
bed, pulling Mulder's T-shirt over her head 
as she stepped toward the bathroom to 
begin getting ready for the day.  She 
glanced at the clock, noting that her mother 
would be arriving within the hour.

When Mulder had first disappeared, she 
had taken to begging God for his safe 
return.   As the weeks passed without any 
sign of him, she turned to cursing God.  She 
had pretty much returned to begging, 
although this time in a more orderly and 
structured way.  Eight weeks ago, she 
began attending a novena with her mother.  
It was held at her mother's parish every 
week after the Saturday morning Mass.  
She had one more week to go.  She didn't 
know what she expected to gain at the end 
of this devotion.  Peace?  Acceptance?  A 
miracle?  Her heart was begging for the 
miracle, but her head cautioned that peace 
and acceptance would be a more realistic 
blessing.  Their baby was such an 
unexpected miracle.  Did she have the right 
to hope for a second one?

+++++++++++

Seeking to ease the strain on her back, 
Scully leaned her hips against the hard 
wooden pew behind her.  She was 
peripherally aware of all that was familiar - 
the worn, cracked vinyl of the kneeler under 
her knees; the lingering scents of sulfur and 
melting wax from the rack of votive candles 
flickering along the side altars; the clicking 
of rosaries laced through folded hands; the 
rise and fall of the parishioners' voices in 
prayer.  All of these sights sounds and 
smells faded into the background as she 
focused her attention on the serene face of 
the statue of the Madonna staring down at 
her.

Please, she pleaded.  You know what it is to 
be unexpectedly and inexplicably pregnant.  
I don't know what will happen when this 
baby is born, she thought.  Will I be able to 
protect my child?  Keep him or her safe 
without Mulder?  She raised imploring eyes.  
I love him, she entreated simply.  I need 
him.  I miss him.

++++++++++++


She awoke in the dark.  The moon hung low 
and heavy in the sky and she stared 
lethargically at it, wondering if Mulder could 
see the same moon wherever he was.  
Suddenly the moon's light was blocked as a 
silhouette moved in front of the window.  
She lurched back, fear clutching her throat.

"Scully?"  She gasped as his familiar voice 
washed over her.  "Scully, it's me."

"Mulder," she cried as she awkwardly 
scrambled to her knees in the middle of the 
mattress.  He sank to floor next to the bed, 
reaching out and pulling her across the bed 
and into his arms.  She buried her face in 
his neck, sobbing his name.  His hands 
moved feverishly over her back as he 
crushed her against his lean body.  Long 
minutes passed before he pushed her back 
slightly to raise incredulous eyes to hers.  
He lifted his hands and settled them over 
her belly, pressing his fingertips into the 
hardened mound that sheltered their child.  
The baby moved suddenly and he drew 
back, startled.

"Elbow," she whispered, tears spilling down 
her cheeks.

"Ohhh," he breathed in wonder.  He gently 
urged her to lie back and stretched out next 
to her.  He swept his hand over her hair and 
down her throat, lingering at the pulse 
beating madly beneath his fingertips.  He 
brushed his fingers over her breasts and 
back down to her stomach, where it 
lingered.  The cross that she had fastened 
around his neck so many months ago 
swung out of the open collar of his shirt, 
glimmering as it was caught in the light of 
the moon spilling into her bedroom.

+++++++++++++++

She kept watch over the man sleeping 
peacefully in her arms.  Her eyes traced a 
path over the beloved features of the face 
pressed contentedly against her breasts.  
She stroked one hand over his hair and 
smoothed the other across her swollen 
belly, closing protective fingers around her 
two miracles as she whispered a fervent 
thank you.


End notes:

Thanks goes to Char for advice and hashing 
out the details of this story with me.  And to 
the Sisters Spooky for taking it out for a 
test-drive.

This and all of my other stories are hosted 
by the kind and wonderful Aly. Thanks Aly! 
http://acovington.home.mindspring.com/tess
/index.html 

I had not intended to write another Requiem 
piece, at least not right now.  But this song 
seemed to fit so well.  As with my previous 
Requiem piece, I didn't attempt to explain 
where Mulder was.  I can't even begin to 
imagine.  This story was terribly short, but 
I'd love to know what you thought of it at: 
tnv099@aol.com