Eve Of The Half Moon 
by Mischa mischablue@iprimus.com.au

Rating: G

Category: VA

Spoilers: Nothing specific; general knowledge up to NIHT.

Summary: Each candle represented a life, evaporating into time.

 Disclaimer: These characters are not mine; they are the property of 
1013 and co, and no infringement is intended.

Archival: All you have to do is drop me a line and ask.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last time she had stepped into a church on Christmas Eve had been 
years ago. What was once a tradition had become a sporadic event. Scully 
breathed in the rich thick scent of melting wax as strains of carol 
singing reached her ears. A wry smile quirked at her lips. If she could 
carry a tune, she might have joined them.

She knelt at the aisle and placed William's bassinet beside her, 
crossing herself in front of the hanging crucifix. Smatters of people 
lined the pews. Not as many as she last remembered from church services, 
but perhaps they were all at home with their families, commemorating. 
//Or opening presents//, she amended, almost smiling again.

Christmas Eve came with a half moon this year, promising the new with 
the old, the light with the dark. Standing outside the small church with 
William in her arms, staring up through the clouds at the moon suspended 
in the sky, she remembered a time when lunar phases were clearly marked 
in her calendar. When telescopes were a gift hard earned. Snow had 
patted her upturned face with its soft flakes, and she could have stayed 
out there until she shivered. William had stirred in her arms, grasped 
for the tiny flakes of white, and Scully had taken that as her cue to 
move inside.

"Gloria, gloria, in excelsius deo..."

A clear, round soprano note soared above the voices of the choir as 
Scully rose and lifted the bassinet. She could have spent Christmas with 
her family this year, with Skinner, with John, with Monica who had 
apparently organised quite the gathering. Perhaps she would join one of 
them later... but somehow she felt the need for this solitary time, a 
return to her roots.

Maybe it was the half moon that triggered it. A crossroads between old 
and new, and she was standing on the threshold. She remembered 
conversations with Missy by campfires, years ago.

"Do you think a moon could ever be half-empty, Dana?"

"That's the pessimist's view, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but if they call a bright moon a full moon..."

"If they call no moon a new moon, wouldn't this be half-old, too?"

"Half old, half new, empty, full, who cares, really? It's the halfway 
mark. It's the bridge."

"Yeah. The bridge."

Even as she faced more situations in her work that made her question her 
beliefs, Scully refused to escape her upbringing. There was a comfort in 
the ritual of the church as much as there were restrictions within it. 
She found herself recalling all the old doctrines and habits with ease. 
Still a doubt remained that she couldn't easily pray away. She had 
seen... many things... how could she still believe? What did she believe 
in now? How much of what she had lived on once had been based on blind 
belief, and how had her need for evidence compromised that?

She thought of a rubbing of a mysterious metal panel with strange 
powers, of how it represented Genesis and the human genome. The 
foundations of religion and science, combined in a single alien craft. 
Scully wondered if she was just a hypocrite for staying here, for 
continuing to utter prayers to a deity she didn't completely believe 
existed anymore.

Scully ducked into one of the rear pews, rocking William slightly as he 
dozed. Her gaze drawn to the small but conspicuous signs dotting the 
aisles.

//Keep your belongings safe and with you at all times,// she read. 
//Professional beggars operate here.//

Scully knew she had faced worse than professional beggars before, but 
she was glad of the forewarning as much as the thought saddened her. As 
the few church attendees stepped forward to take communion, she 
considered her options in taking William and the carry case up with her.

She ended up taking everything up with her, feeling more awkward than 
she had in months. Scully felt eyes on her as she approached and lifted 
her chin proudly. Yes, this was her son. Yes, she was alone. But Dana 
Scully could survive, and so could William; she wouldn't have it any 
other way.

She accepted the communion, and as she did so felt its responsibility 
press on her heart.

//Lord God I am not worthy to receive you, only say the word and I shall 
be healed.//

Blind belief, yet she continued to rely on evidence.

The father leaned over and blessed William, and Scully felt tears 
pricking at her eyes. They shared a smile and Scully stepped to the left 
to acknowledge the crucifix hanging along the far wall, crossing herself 
again as her child cooed.

"Shh," she hushed him, and moved back towards the pew to utter a quick 
prayer.

Scully found herself staring speechlessly at the flawed wood of the pew 
in front of her, mind blank of a prayer. In her mind instead came an 
apology, a wave of regret. Her eyes fluttered closed.

//I *wanted* to say a prayer, but only this came: I would fight to keep 
us all safe, even if the notion no longer exists.//

She was at another bridge, right there.

Between belief, and something... something else.

She swallowed past the dull ache in her throat and quickly gathered her 
bag and her son, heading towards the small side room containing a statue 
of the Virgin Mary and the altars of candles.

"You see that, William?" she whispered to him, gathering him in her arms 
and resting the empty bassinet against her feet. "Look at all those 
lights..."

Scully had always loved the candles, the idea that each of them somehow 
represented a life that could be prayed for. Billy had tried to scare 
her when she was young, saying that guidance only lasted as long as the 
candles did. Although she had believed it for a time, it also meant she 
visited the local church far more often to keep their candles burning.

Charlie had been the one to find out about the real reason for her 
frequent trips outside the home, and when Bill found out Dana was 
renewing his own candles he stopped being a bully for a week or two. By 
then, Father McCue had pulled her aside and listened to her fears.

"I'm afraid, Father."

"Of what, Dana?"

"That if I let the candles burn out, God will stop watching."

Yet even now as she lit every wick she still believed each candle 
represented a life, evaporating into time. Her father, Missy, Emily, Mom 
and Bill and Charlie. Monica Reyes. John Doggett. Walter Skinner. Fox 
Mulder.

"May God keep you safe," she whispered.

She lit a candle for herself. When the wick on William's candle flared 
alight Scully couldn't help but hope it never, ever extinguished.

As she departed, the line of candles continued their soft weeping. Ivory 
teardrops slid to the warm metal supports. In time, they would all melt 
into one, brought together by the truth that they were all mortals, made 
of the same blood and flesh. In time, they would be replaced by other 
candles, by other wishes, by other truths.

The doors closed behind her with a solid thud. She looked up at the 
bright patch in the grey sky, where the moon was concealed by the 
passing clouds.

"It's half-full, Missy," she said. "Merry Christmas."

Swaddled in his blankets, William mumbled something in that universal, 
unknown tongue that all babies spoke. Scully looked down at him and 
smiled. Perhaps she would stop by a friend's place tonight, to bring 
together solitary worlds. They could reminisce.

She nodded, and moved down the broad stone steps towards her car. Dana 
Scully was a woman with purpose, and she couldn't stand around and watch 
the candles cry.

~ END

 I wish a safe and happy holiday season to all. Thank you for reading. 
:-)