Author’s Note: Written for medie, who requested “Mysterious Ways, Declan/Miranda, the honeymoon” in a prompt fest. Features her OC, Carolina Jones (granddaughter to Indiana *g*) in a minor role. No one in this story is mine except for a certain understandably grouchy priest. *g* Declan and Miranda belong to Lion’s Gate and Peter O’Fallon, the never-seen-but-mentioned Grandpa Jones to Steven Spielberg, and Carolina to Medie (see the link above for her origins). 🙂 Title is shamelessly stolen from Dorothy Sayers.

“We found another one of these, once,” Declan cheerfully informed the priest that the Vatican had sent to investigate, and Miranda couldn’t quite suppress a smile at the familiar exuberance in his voice. When the priest just stared at him, though, Declan hastily clarified: “Relics, I mean.”

“Really?” Father George asked in a flat tone, not even turning to look at him. “What relic might that be?”

“The Veil of Veronica. We found it on a priest who somehow wound up in Oregon years before the rest of his order. Carbon-dated the cloth–it was 2000 years old. *And* it could heal people. Pretty impressive, huh?”

For the first time, the priest showed a spark of interest rather than annoyance at his unwitting colleague. “Why wasn’t this find reported? Where is the Veil now?”

Declan looked sheepish. “Ah…it disintegrated.” Then he looked over at Miranda and his voice softened as he added, “but not before saving the life of someone very important to me.”

The priest sniffed, scorn moving once again into his bearing. “Then it was not the Veil of Veronica. A true holy relic would be incorruptible–it would not be touched by the ravages of time or see decay.”

Standing at Miranda’s elbow, Carolina snorted in amusement, staring out at the circus her dig had become. “How do you stand it?”

The younger woman turned to look at the archaologist and shrugged. “By the time anyone thought to call the Vatican, the cloth was already gone.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about that,” Dr. Jones corrected. Her voice dropped to a low mutter. “Although granted, they do tend to remind me why Grandpa left the Grail where he found it.”

Miranda looked at her, eyebrows drawing together into an inquiring frown.

Carolina blushed and changed the subject. “I mean him…” She pointed to where Declan was still obliviously trying to engage Father George in conversation. “Aren’t you two on your honeymoon?”

A small, sly smile crept onto Miranda’s face. “Yep.”

The archaeologist’s eyes narrowed, her mouth twisting into a wry smirk. “So, wouldn’t you rather he spend his time investigating you?”

The small, sly smile turned downright wicked. Oh, they’d done a fair amount of that kind of investigating too. Before she could say as much, though, Declan bounded over to her like a hyperactive kangaroo on the wrong continent.

“This is great!” he gushed, an enormous grin eating up most of his face. “Not only are we on a dig in the Holy Land, but we just *may* have found one of the original shepherds’ staffs! I wonder if it can heal people? Or would it just heal sheep?”

Miranda returned the look fondly. “Did you get a sample I can run tests on?”

He nodded. “Took some fast talking–our sainted friend over there wasn’t too keen on the idea until I pointed out what scientific proof of a miracle of this magnitude could do for the Church–but I got it.” He grinned again, even more broadly this time. “Now we just have to find a lab to use.”

“Depending on what kind of tests you’re talking about, I might be able to help you,” Carolina interjected, watching Miranda the whole time as if trying to unearth the answer to her question. “We’ve got the latest in carbon dating–“

“Perfect,” Declan interrupted before she could even start listing off her equipment, let alone finish. His eyes never left Miranda’s as both hands twined with hers almost automatically. “I’m going to go talk to Darren, see if there’s anything small enough we could take it back with us to the hotel.” He gave his wife a quick kiss and was gone before Carolina could protest that taking equipment off-site wasn’t part of the bargain.

The two women looked at each other. “Well?” Carolina asked wryly.

Miranda just shrugged. “He’s Declan,” she answered simply, then turned away to follow her husband.

Carolina watched them go. “Reminds me of someone else I know,” she murmured, chuckling softly.

On the other side of the camp, Miranda caught up with her husband. “Declan?”

He looked up, beaming at her. “Yeah?”

“Did you know Carolina’s grandfather found the Holy Grail?”

“Of course.” When she frowned at him in confusion, Declan sighed and pulled her close, but the mock exasperation in his voice was more than tempered with affection. “Miranda, don’t you ever go to the movies…?”