Thanks for tolerating this piece. I enjoyed writing it, even though I'm genuinely not a Timothy/Jude shipper. It was something that needed to be done, and I also hope it is something that will help you all forgive me for my next major project. Also don't hate me for my propensity toward crossovers. Blame Ryan Murphy.

Missy and Val left. Sensing perhaps that something intense and private was unfolding, they'd taken their leave gracefully, shaking hands with Max on their way out. Timothy was sad to see them go, honestly. They couldn't have left him with a more awkward situation. He wanted nothing more than to barge into the bedroom and assess Jude, but he put his trust in Eunice implicitly. She would do what was right, and was possibly better equipped to comfort the woman than himself.

However, a small part of him bristled at that thought. Was it not Timothy who had held Jude through these last days of grief? Washed her hair? Spooned soup into her mouth? Carried her prone form to bed when she'd cried herself into unconsciousness? Who was he to judge anyone better than himself at loving Jude?

He was cross when he sat back to the table. It was vexing.

"Seems you've made some fine friends here, Mr. Howell." Max was content to light a cigar, oblivious to recent events.

"Yes. Valerie is possibly the best friend I've ever known."

Max pointed at him. "And that is progress, sir."

He chuckled ruefully. "Thank you, Mr. Boardman."

"And it seems you and Jude have made quite a bit of progress, as well."

He was proud he didn't blush this time. "We've managed to mend our relationship admirably, yes."

"So I suppose now with Mr. Hathaway's generous inheritance..." Max paused, watching the smoke rise from his cigar. "You can do right by her, at last."

"If you're implying that I should marry Jude, then yes, that is my intention." And it was. It had been crystal clear as soon as he'd seen the ring. "If she will have me."

"Oh, I'm sure she can be encouraged." Max smiled. His eyes closed in pleasure. "It's always pleasant to see things falling into their proper places."

"Proper places?" Timothy shifted in his chair. "What do you mean by that?"

The bedroom door opened before the solicitor could reply. "Well, Sister?" Max stood, beginning to gather his things. "Is all well?"

"All is well, Max. She was...in agreement to the assignment." Eunice shuffled tiredly to the table and sat. "I think I need a drink."

Max chuckled. "Maybe Mr. Howell here can offer you something." He turned to the nun. "How was it?"

"Exhausting." Eunice rubbed her hands together. "But successful. I think she'll impress us."

"What are you talking about?" Timothy despised being left out of the loop. "What have you done? Where is Jude? What assignment? Is she -"

"Mr. Howell." Max's hand shushed him. Timothy shook it numbly. "I'm afraid I've a rather busy schedule. I'm going to leave Mary Eunice here to make things crystal clear for you."

"Bye, Max!" Eunice chirped over Timothy's confused stutterings.

"I'll see myself out." Max made his way briskly to the door.

"Eunice."

She turned to Timothy. "Are you going to offer me a drink?"

"Do you drink?"

"I think I do now." She blew a tired breath. "Something strong."

He rose, forehead a mass of creases, and pulled down the bourbon. "How is Jude? And what is it you were discussing with Mr. Boardman?" He poured her a finger.

"Keep going." Eunice gestured from her chair. He poured another dribble. "More." She gestured again. Another dribble. "Don't be scared of it, man!" He poured her another finger. "There we go!" He handed her the tumbler, beginning to feel frustrated. She took a generous sip. "Whooooooo! That's why they call it firewater!" She coughed. Took a moment to gather her thoughts. Staring into the swirling libation, she spoke. "You ever think about having kids, Tim?"

"No." He hadn't. He'd thought only of the Church. Of power. Of himself. That had only just now changed.

"Huh." Eunice smiled at him. "Pour yourself a drink, too." At his grimace, she chuckled. "Trust me. You're gonna need it for this conversation." He did as she instructed, and sat.

Jude slept for most of the day. Eunice had told him she would. That her body - her soul - needed to adjust to certain adjustments. Timothy was sitting on the couch - staring at the jeweler's box on the table - when she emerged from their bedroom. Evening had fallen, and the house was dim. Peaceful. Standing in the doorway, hair tousled and skin glowing, she was possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "Hello," he greeted quietly.

Her smile was shy. "Hey."

"Feeling better?"

"I feel..." She searched for words. "Wonderful." She sat beside him on the couch. "You?"

"I'm a bit...overwhelmed."

"Eunice talked to you?"

"Yes."

Jude took a deep breath. "It sounds insane."

"What? The apocalypse?"

"No." She shrugged. "We've known that was coming. I meant...the baby thing."

"The savior of all mankind thing?" He rested his chin on his folded hands.

"Yeah. That thing." She chewed her bottom lip.

"Jude."

"Hm?"

"This is why we never went to Rome. Why we suffered so in our lives. Why I made you suffer so." For some reason, he cried. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. "We are meant to be here. Together. Creating this incredible life. All that we ever wanted to accomplish as mortals - saving souls - is about to be reality. On an immeasurable scale."

She considered calmly, nodding. Not touching him. "So...we're doing this?"

He wiped his cheeks and faced her squarely. "Jude. This is a charge from the Almighty God."

"Can't say no ta him." She couldn't hide a smile.

He stroked her hair. "I want to do this properly."

"I thought you had a pretty good grasp on the mechanics -"

"I don't mean that."

"Oh." He grabbed the little box from the table. She hadn't noticed it earlier. But she noticed it now. "What's that?" She pointed to it, drawn back as if it was a snake.

"Jude."

Hand at her heart, she peeked over his fingers. "What the hell is that?" She pointed again, body tensing. He made to kneel, sliding from the couch. "What are ya doing?" An almost panic seemed to rise in her. "Timothy. Shit. Jesus." Her hands flew over her face when he opened the box.

"Jude."

"Oh Blessed fucking Virgin," she whispered, peeking at him through her fingers. "What is happening right now?"

"Judy Martin."

"Who's that?" She was crying, now. And he was crying again.

"My rara avis."

"Oh, fuck yar speakin' Latin!" The mini panic drove her to stand, but he captured her with elbows on her knees.

He continued over her growing emotion. "Will you marry me?"

"You've lost yar goddamn mind!"

"Be my wife."

"This is batshit!" She wept harder.

"And the mother of my child."

"Holy Moses!" She had to look away from him. "I can't believe this is really happening..." Silence fell while she breathed deeply.

It was too much for him to bear. "Jude, please. Say yes. We have work to do. And...my knee hurts. Marry me, Jude."

"Oh, shut up a second!" She snapped, finally turning back to him. "Christ, of course I'll fucking marry you!" He collapsed against her knees in relief, groaning. She kissed the back of his head. "But only because God wants us to have a magic baby."

"I love you." He murmured in her thigh.

"I guess that, too."

"You are the most impossibly frustrating woman I've ever -"

"Yeah, well. Now I'm gonna be yar impossibly frustrating wife." She patted his back. "Get up and put that ring on me." Foreheads together, he slid the solitaire on her finger. It was a perfect fit. They stared at it. "From Johnny?" She asked quietly. He nodded. The diamond sparkled when she tilted her hand. "He finally made an honest woman out of me." Her eyes sparkled, too.

Timothy laughed. "You've always been an honest woman, Jude."

"I tried." She cupped his chin in her hands. "Timothy."

"Yes?"

"Can we enjoy a few more rounds of pre-marital sex before we take more life-altering vows?"

"Yes." And he was right: they did get better.

It was back to work the next morning. Timothy and Val were quiet on the drive to Ms. Lundt's land. Sipping their respective coffees. Thoughtful. It wasn't until the caffeine kicked in that they really began a dialog.

"So." Val chucked a log into the truck bed. "You and Judy gonna tie the knot?"

"Er. Yes." He wondered why he was grinning like a fool.

"Well. If you need...ya know...witnesses or whatever."

"Of course." He leaned against the lowered tailgate. "What about you and Missy?"

Val smiled. "Little different for us. You know. Legalities and all that." She shrugged. "Not too many justices out there willing to tie up two lesbos."

"That's...bullshit."

Val laughed deeply, richly. "Way of the world, Nancy." She punched his arm. "But the fact that you feel that way warms the cockles of my coldass heart."

"Your heart is hardly cold, Valerie."

"Thanks, Tim." She thought a moment, picking at a loose thread on her leather glove. "Hey, Tim?"

"What?"

"If uh...if I was to rebuild Hathaway's...would you help me?"

"I will. In any way I can."

"Ol' Ms. Lundt says I can have all the timber I need. And that's a start. But...it's gonna be expensive."

He thought of the coffee can at home. Wondered at its possibilities - if its true purpose could match the purpose set before himself and Jude. "I believe I can help with that."

"I'll pay ya back."

He took a deep breath. "Well. We may need...a babysitter. In the future." He didn't see the attack coming. She grabbed him so hard and with such force they tumbled into a pile of brambles. "Val!" He was chuckling.

"Nancy, ya sneaky fucker!" Her gloved hand squished his cheeks together. "I always wanted to be an auntie!"

When he returned home, Jude was waiting in the bedroom. Naked. In the sheets. He had no complaints. And after marathon sex, he'd broached important topics.

"We should probably get married soon."

"Don't wanna live in sin with me?"

"Hardly a sin, Judy." He'd taken to calling her Judy lately. Maybe because the syllables tasted so sweet when she was milking him dry.

She shifted in his embrace, turned to face him. "How about next week?"

He chuckled. "Is it really that simple?"

"Yeah. Piece of paper. Justice of the peace. Boom. We're legitimate."

"Fine." He rolled her beneath him. Began kissing his way down her beautiful, sticky body. "I look forward to being legitimate with you."

Things happened quickly after that. Jude didn't want a 'big production,' as she called it. They went to the courthouse on a Tuesday - Val and Missy along for the ride. It rained, and Jude wore lavender. "I feel some kinda way about white," she'd explained.

Their 'honeymoon' was moving - not emotionally, but physically. Two trips in Val's truck had them settled in Johnny's house. Their house. Less than a mile from Hathaway's and less than a mile from Missy and Val. Timothy had been the one to lock up his little white house. Val and Jude had left in the truck. He toured the tiny establishment one last time. The rag on the leaky shower. The tiny back porch still piled with wood. The console television where he'd watched so many nature programs. The plaid couch where he'd put his fingers inside his wife for the first time...

On a whim, he took down the coffee can above the stove, hearing a jingle inside it. It was brimming with bills and he pocketed the money, knowing exactly what it was meant for. He paused at the door. Sentimentality overtook him. "To whomever resides here next...know this place is blessed. And that here, your soul is saved."

The loose pane rattled when he closed the door, and the Nash motored out of the driveway for the last time.

But Johnny's house was bigger. Better. Two bathrooms - neither with leaky showers. Three bedrooms. A bigger television. A dining room with a wooden table that seated six. Bigger kitchen. An en suite and a guest bath. A bed that didn't complain when they made love - which was often.

Vast improvement.

And nice to come home to after days full of difficult, demanding work. The extra money had well funded rebuilding Hathaway's club. And Val had kept the name. In fact, she'd made few changes beyond extending the bar and expanding the dance floor. The back room was gutted. Jude's dressing room rebuilt and a cooler installed.

"State of the fuckin' art." She said at dinner.

Missy rubbed her shoulders. "It's a real nice cooler, babe."

Jude shook her head, slicing into a hot apple pie. "I just don't know if 220 cases of beer was really necessary, Val."

"It's a grand re-opening, Judy!" Val spread her arms wide. "Party of the year! I want everybody in the next four counties to know that Hathaway's is the place ta be from now on."

"Or at least the place to drink beer," Missy winked.

"Judy." Val spoke up seriously, ignoring her lover's teasing.

"What, Val?" Jude watched Timothy spoon vanilla ice cream onto her pie before taking a giant bite.

"Will ya sing for me? Opening night? Come back to the club?" She gave Jude her best puppy dog expression.

Jude considered, twirling her spoon in her dessert. "Two weeks, right?"

"Right."

She nodded. "I can do that."

"Yes!" Val fist pumped. "Best reopening evah!"

"But...ya might have ta find anothah singah after that one, Val."

"Yar not retiring, Judy." Val tapped the table. "Not when we're about to light up the map!"

"I'm just thinking of taking some time off." She stared at her pie still. Missy squinted at her, as did Timothy from across the table. Val gaped. "What?!" She asked, taking in their collective stares. She shrugged. "It's just that...I'll be showin' soon and I don't think you want a prego lounge singah struttin' around on -"

"What?" Timothy stood abruptly. "What did you say?"

Val's gape turned to a joyous grin. She watched her friends' moment unfold with absolute glee.

Jude stood, too, squaring off with her husband. "I was plannin' ta tell ya tonight."

"That you're..." He rounded the table to touch her belly. "Jude. Are you..."

"Ya work fast, Monsignor," she whispered.

"Jude." The tears were uncontrollable. He didn't bother trying to hide them. Enfolded her in his arms. "My rara avis."

"Yar rara avis is gonna have a little avis soon." She kissed his cheek softly. "Yar gonna be a daddy, Timothy." The rest of dessert became a celebration.

In bed that night, she apologized unnecessarily. "I'm sorry I told ya in front of Missy and Val."

"I'm not." He smiled against the back of her neck. "They're our closest friends." He rubbed her stomach again, fluttering his fingers beneath her satin gown.

Jude laughed. "You don't have to hold it in there, ya know. It's not goin' anywhere. Not for at least another seven months."

"There's a precious thing inside my precious thing," he murmured.

She twisted to face him. "Thank you."

He stroked her cheek, shadowing the shaft of moonlight there briefly. "Not I, Jude. You deserve the gratitude here."

She thought, eyes closing. "Nah. Not me either..."

He grunted when she nuzzled his neck, nipping. "Can we still um -"

"Mm-hm." She climbed atop him, moving his hands where she wanted them.

"This won't hurt the baby?"

"Timothy. Nothing's evah gonna hurt this baby."

And after all the months of fretting over what a terrible mother she would be - and what a selfish, neglectful father he would be - they found they made staggeringly good parents. There wasn't exactly a test for it, but it showed in their daughter's every surprising new development. She talked at six months. Walked at seven. At her first birthday party, she sang her own birthday song and taught Missy and Val how to cha-cha.

It wasn't long before she caught expected attention, and lessons started. Eunice came nearly every day, simply taking the child for walks or playing quietly in her room. Jude and Timothy let them be, trusting in something they couldn't comprehend because beyond her minor advancements - their daughter seemed perfectly normal.

"Mama."

"What, bug?" Jude was washing dishes.

"May I have some milk?"

"Of course. Thank you for the mannahs." She retrieved the milk bottle from the fridge, pouring one up for the precocious five year old. "There ya go. Know what? I'll join ya." They stood near the sink, sipping milk, the child twirling gold ringlets around her fingers.

"Will daddy be home early today?"

"Hm. I dunno. He's working on the club's roof with Aunt Val."

"Well, damn."

"Don't let yar daddy hear you say that."

"I know." She smiled up at her mother.

"Here." Jude retrieved a stool from under the sink. "Help me finish up these dishes."

"Yes, mama!"

I'm back in baby's arms

How I missed those lovin' arms

I'm back where I belong

Back in baby's arms

Don't know why we quarreled

We never did before

Since we found out how it hurt

I bet we never quarrel anymore

Thought I didn't need his love

'Til he took it away

Now I'm back where I belong

And in my baby's arms I'm gonna stay

Back in baby's arms, back in baby's arms, back in baby's arms

They sang along to the kitchen radio together, blowing the bubbles that rose from the sink and splashing each other. Somehow they were nearly soaking wet soon and completely distracted from dishes because they were too busy laughing.

A cracking thud against the window over the sink broke their reverie. It was loud - almost breaking the pane. Jude jumped - a frightened yelp and hand to heart. Her daughter seemed hardly fazed, trying to peer over the sill. "What was it, mama?"

"I think it was a bird, baby." Jude calmed, stroking the girls hair. "Come on. Let's go see."

Out the back door they stepped behind the budding rose bushes, carefully avoiding thorns. Jude tisked as she knelt. "Yeah, sweet pea. I'm sorry. It's a red bird."

The cardinal was already dead - most likely of a broken neck. And while Jude hated death - and wasn't exactly certain how to go about explaining it - she recognized this opportunity for her daughter to learn and grow. "Come on. We can bury him." They stepped out of the house's shadow.

But in the sun, small hands tugged at Jude's dress, stopping her. "Mama. May I see?"

"Of course, lovey." Jude knelt opening her hands to reveal the still warm creature. She studied her daughter's brown eyes - such a perfect amalgamation of Timothy's and her own - searching for sadness, question, or trouble. But surprisingly, there was only peace in the bright orbs before they closed.

When the small hands reached for the bird, Jude thought to stop her. Thought of germs and mites and all the little nasties kids should avoid, but something stopped her throat giving it voice. Some moment unfolding - some wonder... She gasped when she felt the flutter. Tiny claws scratching her palm. When the small hands opened up, the flutter turned to a full beat and they watched the cardinal take wing.

"Mallory." Judes hands wrapped the girls wrists urgently. "Mallory, look at me, baby. How'd you do that?" Her eyes stung with tears.

"Mallory, why don't you go get the drawings we've been making to show your mama?"

Jude gasped at the voice, whirling to see Mary Eunice behind her. Mallory scampered obediently to the house and Jude stood. "What the fuck was that?" She whispered intently.

"Remember I told you this child would have capabilities beyond our comprehension?"

Jude's eyes were wide with disbelief, manic. "But...she can't raise the dead, Eunice! That's...that's sacrilege! It's -"

"Jude. Don't be so narrow minded." Eunice stroked her arms. "You never were before!"

"It's just...Oh my God." Jude rubbed her face. "This is insane."

Eunice chuckled. "It's only going to get better, mom." She nudged Jude. "Come on. Let's go see some drawings. I think your husband is home."

Indeed, Timothy stood in the kitchen, holding a giggling Mallory above his head. When Eunice and Jude entered, he set the girl on the floor. "Alright, Mal. Run fetch these masterpieces." He caught his wife's eyes over Eunice's shoulder. And once their daughter was out of earshot: "Jude. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah! Yeah, everything's fine, honey!" Jude sat at the little breakfast table across from Eunice, gesturing dramatically. "You know. Dishwashing. Glass of milk. Resurrecting the fuckin' dead. Typical Tuesday morning shit."

"Resurrecting the..." He glared at Eunice.

"What? I didn't do it!" The nun defended.

"Here they are!" The conversation halted when Mallory sailed back into the room, dropping papers in her wake. They seemed to float and follow her to the table, where she piled them into a neat stack between the dumbfounded adults. "This one is my favorite. It's mama and daddy having dinner!"

Timothy took the picture in his hands. Mallory had moved on, showing off a particularly impressive squirrel she'd crafted. But he couldn't take his eyes off of this picture. It was indeed himself and Jude having dinner; Jude as a nun, unmistakable in her habit, and himself as a priest. He swallowed. The colors, the setting, every single detail... This was a Briarcliff dinner. Something his child would have no knowledge of at all.

Eunice watched him, a peaceful expression encouraging. He felt Jude's eyes on him, too. Her hand covered her mouth and there were tears in her eyes. In the picture, he held Jude's hand, and they smiled at one another. He set the picture on the counter, hand numb.

He reached for Jude's hand now. She took it. He folded the other over his daughter's tiny shoulder, and they smiled at one another.

HIs soul understood. As mysterious as they were - life, death, the afterlife, love... They could so easily be understood. Embraced. Unquestioned. Faith could prevail. Death could fail. And love could rule eternally: precious things.