Author's Note: This is based loosely upon an idea a friend and I formed whilst watching the scene between Eunice and the Monsignor when she's packing away Sister Jude's belongings to be donated to charity, and she tells the Monsignor she'd help him get to Rome, via any means possible/necessary. Will more than likely just be a oneshot.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and the FX network.

They had eloped, leaving Briarcliff to the dogs. The patients were all now in Dr. Arthur Arden's capable hands. Sister Mary Eunice had made the decision to join Monsignor Timothy Howard, it had been Judy's idea. For them to get married. Judy and the Monsignor, that is, but Mary Eunice had jumped at the chance to be with Timothy whenever she could be, marriage seemed like the appropriate way to get what she wanted. And, Rome was just a bonus.

They had been there, in Rome for several weeks now, and Mary Eunice had received numerous letters from Arthur, begging her for forgiveness, and asking her to 'come home'. Timothy had been meeting with other Monsignors, Cardinals, he was finding his way within the Church, and around Rome. They both were.

Mary had been shopping, she'd bought herself new clothes for the first time in five years. She had spent five years married to God, for many months of her final year, she and Timothy had been dancing around each other; both wanted the other, but had their obligations within the Church. It had been Mary Eunice who had decided she would abdicate and renounce her vows, several of which had been broken already. She knew how much the Church meant to Timothy, but now he had her also. It was a sacrifice she had made for the both of them.

She had been at their new home, the Hotel Nespolo D'Oro, and changed after a leisurely trip and spending. Mary, or as the gentle hotel porter called her, Maria changed into one of the new dresses she had bought, deciding to surprise Timothy at the Cappella Sistina. She smiled as she pinned the oversided hat to her golden hair, the brim casting a soft shadow over her covered shoulders. The dress was certainly form fitting, clutching at her slender figure in all the right places. She certainly fit in, in Rome with her newly adopted fashion sense.

Collecting her sunglasses and her clutch purse, Mary left the room and headed downstairs to the lobby, where the porter nodded appreciatively, "Bella, bella..." he smiled to her, a wide, toothy grin, "Very beautiful..." he then added in his thick, Italian accent. It was very musical.

Mary gave a nod and returned the smile to him, Carlito was his name. Donning the sunglasses, she stepped out into the warm afternoon heat. Humid and sticky, even for early May. She tried to walk under the parasols and urnings as she passed storefronts and cafes. Before long, she reached the Sistine Chapel, noting how glorious it truly was in reality. Its grandeur and scale. Many of the Cardinals and other Monsignors were bustling outside, enjoying cool glasses of water, or lemonade. She nodded to them as she passed by, looking for Timothy.

Entering the Chapel, Mary removed her sunglasses and her hat, before gingerly dipping her fingers into the small font of water beside the door, smearing it across her forehead and lips, allowing its coolness to soak into her skin. Truly appreciative of its purpose. Cleansing her. She made her way further inside the Chapel, her stilettos clacking on the marbled floor, with each step. It was then, she saw him.

Allowing a delicate smile to form across her Cupid's bow lips, Mary Eunice softened her step, as she neared Timothy. He was on his knees, rosary in hand as he prayed. Muttering words of Christ and Father, Holy Spirits and body, and bread. When he paused, she cleared her throat gently, standing directly behind him now. She awaited him turning around, holding her hat and sunglasses in her hands which were clasped at her front.

He took one look at her and gaped. Timothy's mouth hung open as he drank in the sight of her; the fitted dress, elegant and sophisticated, it made her look a little older than her 24 years. Timothy saw her delicate smile, he had grown accustomed to it now, after the debacle that had been her possession back at Briarcliff. As soon as they had left that Godforsaken place, the Devil had ensued to find another host to inhabit, and the Sister Mary Eunice he had original acquainted himself with had returned. Pure and simple.

Now, she stood somewhat coquettishly, shy though. She possessed a girlish charm, it was irresistibile to Timothy. Standing from his position, he nodded to her, offering out his hand in a gesture for her to near him. He wanted to break that purity she carried. In all honesty, he missed her Satanic ways, her somewhat innocent slutting. Shaking his head, yet smiling, he spoke up, "You look radiant, my dear." he told her, complimenting her and earning a blush in return.

"Timothy..." she responded, turning her head slightly to the side and down, her chin resting against her shoulder gently as she allowed her eyes to become heavy. She could feel her cheeks flushing, the heat rising, truly a blushing bride. When she felt him gripping her hand, Mary turned her eyes to her new husband, glancing curiously at him before she saw his expression.

In a flash, Timothy's mouth was on hers, his hands groping and squeezing and stroking. She gladly reciprocated, after slight deliberation. Were they alone? Of course, God was watching them, but at that moment, neither of them cared much. Mary wrapped her arms around him, her hat flapped against his back as her sunglasses clattered to the floor, echoing around the walls.

As the two heard the clattering of her sunglasses, Timothy broke the passionate kiss, only to swoop in for a second, more demanding kiss. Assaulting her mouth with his, teeth and tongue alike. His strong, stern body pressed against hers, pushing her, leading her to the floor with his mouth. His arms wrapped around her body, hands went wandering up the skirt of her dress, finding stockings and garters before he unhooked the clips and pulled down her panties, kneeling with her on that welcomed chilled floor, the assault upon her mouth continued.

Mary moaned slightly, Timothy didn't know nor did he care if it had been in protest. Ever since the evening she'd convinced him to break one of his vows, something had been awakened in him, and now his body was telling him to act upon those awakenings. He hadn't touched her then, his hands had been encased in bandage and he had shied away from contact with her body, but now, his hands spread like wildfire over her body, moving over her breasts and feeling her nipples peaking. Her reaction caused Timothy to tug at the neckline of her dress, as he lay her down on her back.

Gazing up at Timothy, Mary had her lips parted and her brows raised as she awaited his next move; he pulled at the simple bra she was wearing, tugging the cup down with her dress, exposing the delicate skin of her breast and nipple, goose-pimpled with excitement. Timothy's lips were on hers again as she shivered between he and the floor. As he pulled back again, she heard his zipper before he pushed up the skirt of her dress.

Mary moved her hands to his face, attempting to pull him in for a kiss but he grabbed at her wrists, moving and pinning them above her head under one of his hands. With his free hand, he pulled her panties down her legs before he pushed himself into her, a raw and somewhat strangled cry erupted from her throat. That beloved warm, wet hug greeted him once again and he had to take a moment. When he calmed himself, he began to thrust into her, sending her body jerking upwards with each push.

To begin with, Timothy's thrusts were jerky, he hadn't found a rhythm, but as soon as he gripped onto Mary's hip, he was sure to find a steady pacing. Her left leg was bent at the knee, the heel of her black stiletto pressing into the marble beneath her, her right leg however snaked its way around Timothy's body, her foot pressed harshly against his buttocks to push him further inside her.

Their coupling was fierce, frenzied. Their cries echoed around the room, bouncing from walls, to ceiling, to floor. Timothy was in it for his pleasure alone. Since arriving in Rome, the two had not made love and he had been climbing the walls day and night, after all, he was a red blooded man whom needed release. He was concentrating on the pressure building inside him, the sensations he was feeling. Just. A little. More...

His face screwed in ecstasy as he reached his climax, thrusting through it as he continued to grip at Mary's hip, she knew there would be bruises there later on. Through his cracked eyelids, Timothy looked to Mary as he slowed, her eyes were squeezed shut, and she had not cried out, his job would be completed later back at their hotel. Swiftly, he pulled out and away from her, kneeling as he zipped his trousers and looked over her; dishevelled, far from the beauty she had been when she had entered the chapel. Her elegant up-do was now frizzy, tendrils spiralled in all directions as she lay splayed and exposed on the floor, panting and beginning to shiver.

Timothy smirked before he leaned down to peck her lips, as if to wake her from her frenzied slumber, "I must meet with the other Monsignor's. They are all extremely cut throat at the Vatican, I want to be able to have my cake and eat it." he told her, "I'll be home for dinner..." and with that, he stood, leaving her there.

It took her mere seconds to understand what had happened. Parting her lips and closing them, like a fish gasping for breath, she sat up and looked down at herself. Immediately, she pulled up the cup of her bra and her dress before watching Timothy disappear off into a side room, his swagger was so imminent, she could have cursed, but instead, she compiled herself and regained her prior appearance, standing once she was finished and she looked around, only now noticing how empty the chapel was, how pristine it looked. A few seconds passed in silence before she left, clacking along once again, heading back to the hotel to prepare Timothy's favorite.