TITLE: virtutes jam purgati animi
AUTHOR: XochiLuvr
E-MAIL: xochiluvr@hotmail.com
CATEGORY: MSR-ish (Not really UST or RST, but more than just friends, ya
know? :-), Vignette, Angst, I hope a wee bit of humor
SPOILERS: More than I could count, but most are really tiny. Primarily a
post-ep for Orison, but there's MythArc, Religion stuff, Bio/6th/Amor, even
a few pre-ep spoilers for Maleeni through Closure. References to En Ami in
the Story Notes at the end.
RATING: PG
FEEDBACK: XFC Discussion List? Anyone? I'm a self proclaimed Existentialist
Catholic. Even if you don't write me I'll still worship you. Or maybe you
aren't even real. Some proof would be nice. Please?
ARCHIVE: Ephemeral, Xemplary, Gossamer, Spooky's (I can hope, right?),
private archives around the world. All others please drop me a note so I can
wave at my offspring.
DISCLAIMER: Touch my college fund and you'll wish you had it as good as
Pfaster.
SUMMARY: The aftermath of a hard day's night. The Darwinism of God. Hope.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'd like to apologize to Merlin and anyone reading his
"Maturity" series. I've had Chapter 8 sitting on my hard drive since
February 22nd, and I'm still not finished editing it. It's not that the
story needs *that* much work, it's that I'm terribly slow... Heck, I'm just
*now* posting an Orison post-ep. Maturity Chapter 8 is about two-thirds of
the way through the editing process, and now that I've gotten this out my
head, it should appear in the near future. Story Notes at the end.

To the fishy chick, and for extinguished flames everywhere - trust no one.


virtutes jam purgati animi
by XochiLuvr
Completed 3/31/00

"Miracles are spontaneous, they cannot be summoned, but come of themselves"
(Katherine Anne Porter).

I sit beside my partner on the couch. No lights are on, and the apartment is
shrouded in darkness. We say nothing. Not an unusual occurrence for two
people who supposedly know each other so well, but it has become an
uncomfortable silence, and neither of us are feeling like our normal selves
this night. We contemplate the same thing, but from two different
perspectives. At least that comes as no surprise. Both of us feel guilty
about the shooting, but we differ as to why that guilt is consuming us.

Depraved. Despicable. Death in human form. Donnie Pfaster was, to me, all
this and more. Twice he attempted to take my life from me. Poor fool. He
should have realized how impossible that would be. I am by no means
invincible, but I have seen the devil. I've walked that path, lived that
life, dreamed that dream; and as evil as he might have been, Donnie was no
Satan. Donnie was a ruckus in an apartment; a ten minute ache in a lifetime
of pain. Donnie was a negligible annoyance compared to three months of lost
time, cancer, dead children, murdered and missing family, an
extraterrestrial virus, and countless other horrors we've encountered over
the years. As Byers told me once, long after the first altercation with
Pfaster, "That man was worth less than snake-shit under a wagon wheel." I
can't wrong him for the cliche. At the time, the five of us had been
drinking heavily in celebration of our continued existence.

Fox Mulder and Dana Scully have dedicated themselves to saving the world, be
it from impending colonization or from the men who would save humankind at
the cost of our humanity. I think we secretly hope to save ourselves in the
process. Donnie Pfaster is insignificant compared to the fate of the planet.

My partner, as is often the case, feels differently then I right now; I hope
I can alter that opinion. So much pain, hurt, and guilt surrounding a caring
heart, a beautiful mind, and an eternal soul. In the past I've declared my
love, my need, and my trust. Now I have to declare my faith.

And justify an unnecessary death in the process.

"You do realize that you're my partner in ALL things, don't you?" I speak
into the silence.

"I... I think that over the years you've made that perfectly clear, yes."

Finally, I think to myself. The barest hint of a smile, and a nod of the
head. Movement in the darkness.

"Do you feel the same?"

I wait, patiently, and almost miss the barely audible whisper.

"Ye...yes."

Not good enough.

"I don't think I heard you."

Stronger now. "Yes."

Now to get things moving. Religion has always been a point of contention
between us, to the point we usually avoid mentioning the topic at any and
all costs. It seems this time both Heaven and Hell have conspired against
us. We can no longer avoid, and I can no longer deny. "Then let me ask you
this: Do you truly know what my beliefs are, concerning God?"

"Honestly, no." A look, and a moment's pause. "Whenever the subject comes up
we usually end up bashing each other's convictions, and... and I'm sorry to
say I've never really considered your feelings on the matter. So, tell me."

Ahh. Hook, line and sinker. A philosophical discussion always brings out the
best in my partner, be it aliens or the afterlife.

"You know the tale of the turtle and the scorpion, right? The turtle gives
the scorpion a lift over the water, with an understanding between them that
the turtle won't get stung?"

"Yes, I know it, most people do. In the end, the scorpion stings the turtle,
and the turtle asks him why."

"And he replies, 'It's in my nature.' Then they both drown."

"Trying to cheer me up?"

My turn to smile.

"No. it's the punchline, not the tragedy, that speaks to me. 'It's in my
nature' covers so many things, don't you think? It's in your nature to be
strong, to fight for the truth no matter the personal cost. To fight for me,
however much it hurts you in the process. I know, I know. I'm the same way."

"Where are you going with this?"

"Let me put it to you this way: Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

A pause and a deep breath.

"Do you believe IN me? Truly? Think about this very carefully. Do you
believe that I always try to do good, that whether or not I am right or
wrong in the end, I try my best? That I have as much faith in you as you do
in me?"

Another long pause. Another whisper.

"Yes."

I move us closer together in preparation for what I have to say. What needs
to be felt, as well as heard. By us both, I suppose.

"It's in our nature to be who we are, to believe or want to believe as we
see fit. When we factor in God, however, we seem to reverse roles. What if I
told you that I have irrefutable proof of the existence of God?"

"Not the ship or the rubbings again, I can't deal with all th..."

"No. My proof is in this room. My proof is you."

"But, I..."

I interrupt again.

"A miracle is an event that appears inexplicable and is thought to be an act
of God. Something awe inspiring. The Roman Catholic Church uses miracles as
a measure of someone's piety, as a measurement in the canonization of
saints, correct?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Granted, neither one of us are destined for sainthood, but... You are my
miracle. So much pain and sadness, and yet you're still alive, and still
beside me. By choice. You inspire so much hope, so much awe in me... I can't
even describe it. I can quote you Aesop or Asimov, Shakespeare or Sagan, but
none of it would do you justice."

"But what about..."

"Pfaster? Let me put you at ease. God *does* have a vengeful side. Or at
least He did. Consider the Old Testament. To name the obvious you've got
kicking Adam and Eve from the Garden, floods, and of course the requisite
plagues and famines. Don't even get me started on Job. God directly
interacted with his creations. In the New Testament, he passes the buck to
his Son. Here the message changes. You still see the vengeance, but much of
it is tempered by forgiveness, filtered through His followers on earth, or
doled out in the great beyond. 'And whoever says a word against the Son of
God will be forgiven; but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be
forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come.' ..."

"But that doesn't justify..."

"Uh, uh. Let me finish.

"In the nineteenth century John Stuart Mill wrote that positive occurrences
of some phenomena having a common trait identify that trait as indicating
some larger commonality..."

"Inductive Reasoning. Your favorite. Hardly scientific..."

"I thought you were going to let me finish. This is God I'm talking about;
science is irrelevant here, don't you think?"

Another grin. Time to get to my own punchline.

"So. Old Testament equals vengeful God. A good bit of smiting here and there
to keep the population in check. New Testament equals a more forgiving
higher power, more intent on teaching us the right path than washing us
asunder or turning us into salt licks. As time goes by God is less vengeful
and more forgiving. Instead of burning bushes and booming voices from the
sky we get an official representative, sent from on high and yet one of our
own."

"Your point?"

"According to Mill, we have an established pattern. The more time passes,
the more free will we have, along with the knowledge that someone out there
is watching us. Less discipline and more leeway. Like a parent helping his
children grow up, watching them leave the nest to live their own lives, be
their own persons, tempered by the knowledge and experience garnered while
still in the nest. Your parents raised you, gave you a home, loved you,
taught you what they could, and stepped back, set you free. It wasn't an
easy process for either of you, but it had to be done. Not everyone learns
the right lessons, and not everyone pays attention in class, but more often
than not the message is received. Maybe God is like that; he created us,
nurtured us as best He could here on earth, and is slowly handing us the
reigns, teaching us to survive on our own, knowing that we can always call
home when we get in a jam. Your mom was a large influence on your life, but
now she's not in charge of you... She's a spectator, but forever at the
sidelines, cheering you on as only a parent can. She can't ground you for
missing your curfew anymore, but she will always forgive you your
trespasses. Maybe God is like that, Scully."

We stay silent now, each of us untangling my speech, searching for truth in
the words; both of us, as always, looking for different meanings from the
same information. I am hoping she finds her forgiveness in my words, but
again she surprises me.

"But what about you, Mulder?"

"What about me?"

"How can you liken God to my parents in the face of your own?"

I am stunned for a moment, and pause to recover before I can answer. She
thinks I deserve it as well. She intends to tie our forgiveness together,
just as most everything else has been over these many and all too few years.

"I said that not everyone learns the right lessons. Not everyone has the
right teachers, either. My parents were spectators in my life for many more
years than they were active. I can still hope that somewhere in her heart,
my mom is cheering me on." I whisper, now; my eyes, just as hers, filled
with unshed moisture. "I can still hope I got the message right, Scully."

"Oh, Mulder," she says softly, shifting on the couch until she is under my
arm, head nestled gently against my own, "I'm sure you did. I'm sure you
did."

With that we turn to look closely at one another, and seemingly of their own
volition our lips meet in a chaste kiss that speaks of many things: hope,
love, desire, forgiveness, and most importantly, the future. Our future.

We have yet to speak outright of those same things. It is not in our nature
to do so. I do not know what tomorrow will bring, but here in the dark I
feel we have both found at least some peace. We haven't resolved anything,
but here on this night the demons will find no home.

I sit beside my partner on the couch. No lights are on, and the apartment is
shrouded in darkness. We say nothing. It is the most comfortable silence I
have ever known.

-end-

AUTHOR'S NOTES:
virtutes jam purgati animi
virtues of the purified soul

Virtues of the Purified Soul is one of the two intermediaries between the
Social (Human) and the Exemplary (Divine) virtues. St. Thomas Aquinas, in
Summa Theologica, wrote that such a degree of virtue belongs only to souls
anchored in the love of God.

I wrote about half of this the night Orison premiered, while still in shock.
It sat on my hard drive undergoing mostly minor changes/additions until I
got supremely hacked off over En Ami. On the atxfc newsgroup I wrote that
"While it was the best Scully I've seen in a while, it was also the dumbest.
Usually, she's the voice of reality and reason - the only exception occurs
in the religious eps, in which she has been known to quell her science in
favor of her faith. Now she denies her science in favor of what she's never
chosen to believe - alien technology. If she scoffs at Mulder, why would she
even *consider* CGB?"

In rereading that post, I thought about what would happen if I turned the
tables and shifted just a little bit of Scully's belief to Mulder. Then, I
got to thinking about specific instances Mulder has commented on religion,
and the Maleeni quote popped into my head: "God is a spectator, Scully! He
just reads the box scores!" Taken at face value, it is an offhand remark,
but if extended, it is an admission of Mulder's belief, such as it may be.
And here we are. I hope you enjoyed it.

This is the first finished story I've written since I was a Junior in High
School, circa 1994, and is by default my first XF fanfic. I'm a virgin, be
careful with me. No beta's were used, all errors are on account of yours
truly. Feedback, positive or negative, will be cherished. I'm a lonely soul
and desperately need some love. Please?