Title: Justifying Kilar
Author: MissAnnThropic
E-Mail: miss_annthropic@yahoo.com
Spoilers: Emily, 3
Summary: On the anniversary of Emily's death Mulder faces some of his own demons.
Disclaimer: I own nasing! Really, I don't. All you see here (that you recognize, anyway) is the creation of someone else. I take no credit.



Fox Mulder sat silently on the pew, feeling the urge to look at his watch, but curbing it. He wasn't in a hurry to be gone... he could stay here all day if Scully needed to; it was just a natural tendency when he was still like this for so long.

Mulder dropped his eyes down to the wooden seat under him. It was sturdy... strong... but cold. Even after sitting on it long enough for his body to have warmed one spot, it still felt cold... ominous, maybe even a little harsh and unforgiving, despite its location.

Maybe he was just in the wrong frame of mind. Maybe, to people who came here every week and believed in this place's power, it didn't feel cold. It was cold to him.

He sat quietly, though, in no hurry to leave. Scully had asked him to come with her... on the anniversary of when she'd lost Emily. Mulder was stunned that she'd asked (she was usually so independent and strong about her dead daughter), that he'd dared not deny her. A catch in her voice had told him that, though she would not say so, she might need him. Anytime she needed him, he'd be there... so here he sat.

Mulder glanced up toward the small doors at the side of the church... the confessionals. Scully was in one of them, telling the priest god knows what. Mulder, surprising himself, wasn't curious what it was she was telling him. He had faith that, in time, she would tell him if it was important... and if not, then she had a right to keep it to herself. He had things he kept from Scully... things he didn't want her to know lest she think less of him for it.

Mulder cringed... like Kristen Kilar. He would NEVER tell Scully about that. How would she react to the knowledge that, while she'd been gone in the clutches of those men testing her, he'd had an uncharacteristic fling with a complete stranger? Even to him, thinking back on it, and it made him think less of himself... not just as an honest man, but a decent human being. How could he do something like that... to Scully?

Even if he and Scully were not a couple... weren't together, it still felt like betrayal to her... even after four years. She'd been gone, and he'd been selfish enough to do something that was so completely for him... something that would do nothing in the search for her, which had been his one mission while she was gone.

It sickened him to think back on it... even ashamed him. Scully didn't even know, but he still wondered what he might be able to do some day to make it up to her... to tell her how sorry he was for not thinking about her first and foremost for just one second.

The confessional door suddenly creaked gently open, interrupting his thoughts. Scully stepped out, looking so meek.

Memories of Emily did that to her... seemed to chip her down to a smaller size... someone less formidable and strong. It made him want even more to protect her, and it made him angry at the men who'd done this to her. Curse anyone who would dare cut Scully down when she was such an incredible person.

She walked up silently to Mulder, eyes locked on her feet until she reached his side. She turned her eyes to him. Instead of staying mournfully silent or sounding dejected, she rather commented, "You look like you've got a lot on your mind."

Mulder looked up at her, studying his partner a moment. She looked alright, not devastated... like she was handling this well. It didn't surprise him... Scully could handle twice what most men could.

Mulder answered softly (feeling that perhaps, like a library, a church was a place to keep voices low), "Don't I always?"

Scully smirked, moving closer and sitting down next to him on the pew. Mulder thought of moving over to give her more room, but ultimately he didn't. There was plenty of space beside him where Scully had chosen to sit but inches from him. If she'd wanted that space she could have taken it. Maybe she sat so close to him because she needed to. Maybe it was moral support, physical proximity, or maybe to her the pew was cold too.

Mulder sat up from sitting with his elbows on his knees, looking over at Scully, looking at her for signs of inability to cope... finding none. He asked in his kindest voice, "You okay?"

Scully nodded, "Fine."

Mulder blinked, insinuating a smirk had the mood been just a little lighter. Of course she was 'fine'... she always was. This time, though... she looked like it was the truth. She looked like she'd made a peace with Emily's death, and even if it only lasted until they left the church, it was a peace nonetheless.

Scully sighed, then asked, "What were you thinking about?"

Mulder stalled, "Just now?"

Scully nodded, turning her head to look at him.

Mulder swallowed under her scrutiny, then half-answered, "Confessionals, actually."

"Confessionals?" Scully questioned curiously.

Mulder nodded, shifting slightly closer to her, "Yeah... I guess I was just trying to understand why people go to them. What good does it do to tell a perfect stranger your greatest moral lapses?"

Scully studied him a moment, a kind glint in her eye... a smile threatening on her lips.

"What?" Mulder asked.

Scully smiled, "It's not always about the act of telling someone what wrong you've done... it's about getting it out."

Mulder shrugged, "That's what best friends are for... that's one of the many reasons I have you."

Scully paused, looking genuinely touched, then she continued, "Sometimes you have to get things off your chest to someone you'll never see again."

Mulder nodded, lost in thought again.

Scully studied him a moment, then said unexpectedly, "You should try it."

Mulder's eyes jerked to her, incredulous. He studied her a moment, then frowned and said, "Scully... I don't believe in God."

Scully smiled gently, "I know that, Mulder... but that stranger behind the screen doesn't, and it doesn't actually matter."

Mulder's lip curled, "It doesn't matter whether or not you believe in God when you go to confess to a priest?"

Scully shook her head in amused exasperation at his tone, then looked at him as she said, "It has SOME bearing... but not as much as you'd think. The principle's not so much about asking God's forgiveness as it is about healing people."

Mulder didn't respond.

Scully continued, "It's like... you. You fight this global conspiracy that threatens the population of whole nations... does whether or not they even believe in aliens make any difference to you?"

Mulder began, "Well, no, but that's..."

"No different," Scully said, then smiled, "at least in principal. Confessionals are about helping people start to heal and to understand why they did what they did and why they feel what they feel. It's a free ear."

Mulder shook his head, "I still don't understand why you think I should try it... I have you to talk to... that's plenty enough for me."

Scully was touched once more, but she did not let his flattery steer her away from the conversation, "Don't you have anything that's weighing on you?"

Mulder smirked, looking up at her, "Scully... this is me you're talking to."

Scully smiled, shaking her head, "No... I mean something you can't tell me."



****



Father McCue heard the door on the confessors side of the booth open and close softly... then the light breathing of a person sitting in the small cubicle across from him.

Father McCue reached up, pushing aside the door and revealing the cast iron screen... obscuring their faces to each other just enough but not enough to make it feel completely impersonal.

The person who'd come in, however, did not speak. The guest just sat in silence.

"If you are able, don't be afraid to speak, child. You need not fear letting God hear your sin... he knows it already."

A man's voice came in response, "Uh... sorry... I don't know how to do this."

"This is your first confession?" The man sounded old, not a young teenager stepping in for his first confession. He sounded like an adult... and like someone who had so much pain inside that even to a stranger like Father McCue it was noticeable... of course, he'd been doing this a long time and knew the voice of pain.

The man answered, "Yes... umm... I'm not Catholic."

Father McCue asked in his calm, soothing voice, "Do you belong to another denomination?"

"Not exactly... more of an agnostic. My friend... told me to come here."

"Your friend feels you need confessing?"

The man laughed, "She... thinks I have a lot on my mind."

"Do you?"

A pause, "Yes... but that's not out of the ordinary... not for me."

Father McCue nodded, "Perhaps your woman friend feels you should not hold it inside."

There was a long silence, and Father McCue asked, "What sin would like to confess to God in search of forgiveness?"

The man was quiet a long time, probably debating whether or not he should be there, since he didn't believe in the deity the father did (though in some form he probably sought forgiveness), then said faintly, "I guess... adultery."

"You're not certain?" Father McCue asked gently... the man seemed unsure of his answer.

"Well," the man sighed, "she and I aren't married, but we're committed, in a way... but not involved. I'm not sure what that qualifies as."

Father McCue nodded, "It is someone you feel you owe it to be faithful to... regardless of martial status."

"I guess so."

"You feel you've betrayed her with this... act?"

"Definitely."

Father McCue nodded, leaning closer and asking warmly, "Tell me about it, son."

The man was quiet a long time, then began, "She and I are coworkers... we're partners. She and I are good friends... best friends. I feel... strongly for her. I love her in my own way, and I know she does me... in her own way."

Father McCue nodded, "I see, son... have you professed this love to one another?"

The man answered quickly, "Oh no... it's more of an understood love... we never talk about it."

"But this love you have for her, and the love she returns to you... it has made you feel guilty for your sin?"

The man grunted affirmatively, since the father could barely make out his head bobbing in a nod, then his voice came back, "It happened about four years ago. My friend and I... the work we're involved in is very dangerous and extremely high profile. There are a lot of bad people who want to stop us... are afraid we'll ruin their plans. Four years ago... these men we're fighting... they kidnapped her."

"How did that make you feel when they took your lady friend?" the father asked softly.

The man's voice came back with a tinge of anger, "Furious... and sad... and guilty."

"Why did her abduction make you guilty?"

The man paused a long time at the father's choice of words, then he answered, "She was originally assigned to me to stop me and my work... when that failed she became my ally... and so it was my fault she was put in danger as I was."

Father McCue asked, "Does your friend blame you for her kidnapping?"

"No... she doesn't... but I wouldn't blame her if she did."

"Perhaps she knows she need not blame you, for you blame yourself enough for the both of you."

The man was quiet a while, then said, "It was while she was gone and I was searching for her that I... had a lapse in morality, I guess you can call it."

Father McCue nodded, "When you committed this, what you believe to be, sin?"

The man agreed, "Yes... I had been searching for her for months when I... met this woman. She was... forgive me if this offends you, but she was in a cult... she believed her cohorts were vampires."

Father McCue spoke calmly, "Even the misguided are God's children... do not apologize for them... continue with your story, son."

The man in the cubicle adjacent to his sighed, "I didn't love her, not at all... oh, she fascinated me, I'll admit, but I felt nothing for her emotionally. She seemed so... so hard and guarded... I wondered if she knew how to desensitize oneself to pain and loss."

"You hoped to find how to save yourself from the pain you were in?"

The man thought a moment, "No... I wanted to miss Sc... my friend. I was glad it hurt so much, because it reminded me that I loved her; but I guess this other woman was... fascinating and alluring to me in that... she looked like she knew at one point in her own life how I felt at that moment."

Father McCue nodded, "Is this the reason you committed this act with her?"

The man shook his head, "No... it wasn't. Sleeping with her... had nothing to do with her."

Father McCue urged under his breath for the guest to go on. The man obliged, "I slept with her to hurt myself and in doing so hoped to get my friend back."

Father McCue frowned in thought, "How would this have brought your woman friend back to you?"

The man was quiet a long time, thinking, then said, "I know they took her to interfere with my quest... my crusade. As if they felt I was a martyr, a lone messiah who needs no companion... I was oddly pristine in their eyes, and that got my friend taken away. I think I had to convince myself I was flawed... so flawed that I deserved a babysitter like my friend was and still is to me. I wanted them to see the imperfect, sinful side of me... and so I slept with this other woman to prove my faults. I only hoped it would bring my friend back to me if they saw I had weaknesses... that I wasn't the flawless warrior they'd imagined me to be. If I needed sin to get her back, then I would have laid a path to hell for me myself. I was bound to get there anyway, they were paving my road as it was... I just wanted to go with the memory of having her beside me while I could."

Father McCue listened to the man sigh, feeling spent at having finally spoken of this event that had obviously weighed heavily on him for so long.

"Son, did you feel this was the noble thing to do?"

The man was quiet, then answered, "I'd abandoned any notions of honor by then... all I cared about was getting my friend back."

Father McCue nodded gently, "Do you honestly believe you're doomed to hell?"

The man answered, "Just a suspicion I guess... aside from my friend, nothing in my life has ever gone right."

"You have your friend back?"

"Yes... my one moment to ever reconsider the existence of God."

Father McCue smiled faintly, "Son... God forgives your sin... he would not send a brave person such as you to an eternity of damnation."

The man laughed, "Why not? Everyone else seems to want to. Sorry... I tend to joke when I get tense... I didn't mean any offense."

Father McCue excused it quickly, then reassured, "If it is any consolation to you, young man, your sinful act was in body alone... you speak as though it was not at all spiritual."

The man quickly said, "Not at all... I mean, if there's anything beyond human consciousness, it had absolutely nothing to do with it... I was involved with her in a strictly phyiscal sense. I just... wanted my friend back. I know my judgment was clouded. I can't justify myself with that, though. It was a conscious act against myself, but also against the one person who means everything to me."

"Yours was an act of desperation out of love."

The man nodded slowly, "Doesn't make it better."

"It makes it forgivable... God would not condemn you for your cause."

"All due respect sir, but God's forgiveness is not what I seek nor need."

"Then what is it, son?"

The man was quiet a long time, then said, "I guess I need HER forgiveness, but I could never tell her about that woman. I may have been out to tarnish my image to the men who took her, but I never wanted her to think lesser of me."

"Then why come here?" the father asked softly.

The man paused a moment, then answered, "For a personal sense of absolution."

"And did you find that?"

The man answered back faintly, "No... it still plagues me."

Father McCue asked, "Have you taken anything from this confession, my son? It would ache God's heart to know you're so perpetually troubled."

The man spoke finally, "I came away with something... some form of acceptance of what I've done."

Father McCue asked, "Is that what you want?"

The man answered, "It's enough... just as I wanted the pain when she was gone, I want the guilt I feel for what I did."

"For what purpose?"

The man seemed to smile, his voice lighter as he answered, "The same as before... so I'm reminded in my pain that I love her. If I take this pain to my grave, I'll know I never stopped loving her as I do now... that's enough for me."



****



Scully looked up as Mulder emerged from the small room, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. She searched his face, wondering what had happened in there. He'd been in there for quite some time... she'd never thought there was so much he felt he couldn't tell her that he wanted to talk about.

She stood, moving toward him as he walked in her direction.

"Well?" she asked as she came up beside him, "What did you think?"

Mulder looked down at her, wondering if he looked the same as when she'd come out... changed, something in him felt different... having voiced that detestable act that had been solely his secret for so long and to someone he'd never met. He wondered if Scully confessed the same kind of things he just had.

Mulder shrugged, saying with a smirk, "I have God's forgiveness... what am I going to do with that?"

Scully smiled, shaking her head as her eyes sparkled that sky blue at him in her quiet amusement at her partner. She touched his arm, "Come on, you heathen... let's go home."

Mulder turned, moving through the church toward the front doors. For a minute both were quiet, thinking, then Scully spoke, "You know, Mulder... some people are much more forgiving than God."

Mulder looked at her, "Oh?"

Scully smiled faintly, looking up at him, "You know I'd forgive you where God wouldn't."

Mulder paused a moment, then dared to speak, "But would you forgive me where God did?"

Scully looked back at him, stunned. She studied his face, his eyes... searching for a truth... an answer... some clue. Slowly, she opened the door, stepping backward out of the church, "Mulder... I can't think of anything I'd not forgive you for."

Mulder stepped after her, whispering under his breath as they moved toward the car in the parking lot, "You might be surprised."



END