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"O rapturous joy..."

SPOILERS: Revelations
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc.

Notes: This is written in response to a challenge at Fandomonium--a smutty post-ep for Revelations. More comments at the end.

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It has been an emotionally exhausting case, and Scully is glad to finally be home, swaddled in her own bed. Today is a day of firsts for her, or at least of a return to things once abandoned. The visit to the confessional was only the beginning, sparking a fire in her soul that she has not felt in so long. She lies now with a rosary gliding between her fingers; the beads are both foreign and familiar after such an extended absence. Her lips utter by rote prayers from her youth, supplications she had thought long forgotten, yet her unconscious mind recalls them with precision. She settles now on an evening prayer, an appeal to the Holy Spirit: "Come, I beseech You, and take up your abode in my heart."

But her conscious mind is roiling with other thoughts. She wrestles with the implications of what she has seen and heard. Incorruptibles who smell like spring. Young boys who can be in two places at once. Miracles, or myths? And who is to decide? Mulder calls them stories, parables, but they were taught to her as truth. Accounts of holy men and women who sought the supernatural and were rewarded. Saints who achieved the highest union with God. Are such things humanly possible? And is there something she alone is meant to see? She must come full circle to find the Truth.

She feels the circles between her fingers, as she turns and turns the string of beads. "Most blessed Light, most amiable Light, enlighten me." Her lids are heavy, her passions spent. She closes her eyes in surrender, letting her mind drift unfettered while her lips continue their litany: "O rapturous Joy of Paradise, Fount of purest delight, my God, give yourself to me, and kindle in my innermost soul the fire of your love."

Warmth begins to surround her, humid like the steam from a bath. Brightness penetrates her eyelids, and she lifts them to find herself enveloped in light. It extends in every direction, drowning out all sense of her surroundings. For a moment, she is seized with paralyzing fear, a primal instinct that beckons recognition, yet it remains out of reach. But then a calm settles over her. This warmth is not hostile. It cradles her, and she gladly soaks in the joy that it brings.

She notes in detached wonder that she is lying there nude, but she feels no self-consciousness or shame. The humidity clings to her skin, which glistens as it reflects the radiance around her. Her limbs lie loosely, free to move, but she has no desire to disturb them. She feels nothing but peaceful bliss as she marvels at the strange comfort of this place.

There is a movement to her left, and with languor, she turns her head. A being stands next to her, the likeness of a man; but in the extreme brilliance, she cannot make out his features. He remains mysterious, no more than a presence. Yet his appearance is welcome. She knows, somehow, she has come here to join him.

When he steps closer, she realizes that his form itself is emitting light. He lifts his hand and poises above her a long, golden arrow. The tip glows, like a red-hot poker. Her curiosity is aroused, and her heart pounds hard against her breast.

In a flash of motion, he thrusts the gilded shaft into her, and pierces her to the core. "Oh, God!" she yells. From the point of penetration, a liquid fire burns throughout her body. Whether pleasure or pain, she cannot distinguish, only the pangs that wash over her in waves. She squeezes shut her eyes and throws her head back in ecstasy; the unbearable intensity tears a moan from her throat. The sensation mounts with each throb of her heart, as it pulses with a love more profound than she has ever known.

Then a sweet wind dances over her body; like a breath, it caresses and soothes her overheated skin. The gentle air seems to lift her from her berth, stroking over her weightless form on every side. She lies limply in its embrace, her fingers and toes still tingling. She is floating, ascending, with no fear of falling. The earth and its gravity cannot hold her. She has become one with the light.

The searing heat abates, but she clings to it, desperate to extend the moment. The presence is no longer beside her; she now feels it pulsing throughout her, bathing her from the inside. But she longs to look on his face. Finally, when the pangs relent enough to catch her breath, she pries open her eyes.

She comes awake gasping. Darkness surrounds her; damp silk clings to her torso; her weight presses into the soft firmness of her bed. Her heart is pounding, a steady thump in contrast to the fluttery trembling that seizes the rest of her body. She raises a shaky hand to swipe at the dampness of her face and finds, not the sweat she had envisioned, but a tear that has escaped her eye. In her other hand, the rosary remains clutched at her side.

She shivers, and sighs into the night.

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Notes: Oh, this isn't what you meant by "smut"? :) But it's erotic, doesn't that count?

Most of this is based on St. Teresa of Avila's rapturous experience, with a dash of Cupid and Psyche thrown in for taste. And, I couldn't find a place for this, but there's a great poem about Orpheus and Eurydice (appropriately entitled "Orpheus") by Arthur Dillon with this great snippet:

O rapturous joy! A sick man's taste of health,
That glimpse of song-redeemed Eurydice!
Naked she sat amid her mantling wealth
Of auburn glory shadowy to her knee.
Dreamt they the words of Gods are ever broken,
Or idle words those dreadful lips had spoken,
That eyes met eyes, while launched so fearfully?

Naked to view, in wedded chastity,
Her open lips for wonder and affright
Apart, she with wide arms, pure ivory,
Pearl, snowy, silvery on the ghostly night,
Rose hungering toward her love in queenly fashion,
Virginal in the whiteness of her passion.
But, lo, even as she rose fled all her might!...

Whilst on the air she rose, in wakeful trance,
Light in its eddy as a withered leaf.
She lived her whole life through--last, strange derision--
Girlhood and happy love, --in lightning vision.
She stole into the darkness like a thief.

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