Sacrament (PG)
Posted: Wed Nov 04, 2009 11:48 pm
Title: Sacrament
Author: redwinter101
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight or any of its characters
Note: This is a sequel to Bronze, set some time post-Sonata. You don't need to have read that story for this to make sense, but it works much better if you have. I'd been working on this story for a while but it lacked focus - until today.
***************************************************************************************************************
For allegrita, because the Mick I adore is a lover AND a fighter.
--- Sacrament ---
July 29th 2010
She'd felt it growing, spreading, a distance, a remoteness between them. Mick smiled his sad, sweet smile and told her she was imagining things, that everything was fine, that he'd never been happier, but she heard the lie catching his words, saw the flicker as he couldn't hold her gaze. There was a quiet desperation to the way he held her when they made love, so tender, as though they might break under the weight of hopes and dreams. Unfamiliar fear kept her from confrontation; she'd always stepped forward to face trouble head on, but now, she had too much to lose. In lonely silence, she clung to the moments they shared, analysing every word, every gesture, every touch, searching for clues, waiting and hoping Mick would draw her close once more.
Something about this particular day was different, sharper, clearer and Beth sensed a point of finality, of decision. Mick had arrived home just as she was leaving for work; she saw pain, felt need in his grasping touch as he pulled her close.
"I love you," he whispered.
It felt like goodbye.
*****************************
Weathered, dulled by age, a little battered, the bronze figure endured. Mick smiled at the comparison; fifty years had taken their toll. St. Jude, haloed in flame, still extended an embrace to the lost and the hopeless, a pool of welcoming light spilling from the ever-open church, catching the simple lettering of the painted, wooden sign hung from the door, "All welcome, always."
Mick's hesitation was brief this time, confident in the sanctuary to be found within. The church was silent, the choir long since disbanded, the regular worshippers departed for hearth and home. The pews and kneelers were the same, much-repaired and patched, peeling varnish and threadbare velvet a testament to years of bowed heads and bended knees. On so many days he'd felt God's absence but here comfort seeped into his soul. Inch by soothing inch tension leached from sprung muscle; eyes closed, his breathing calmed until finally he could hear the silence.
"Dominic!" The stage whisper interrupted Mick's reverie. "Dominic, what do you think you're doing?" An elderly priest hobbled from the altar giving chase to a younger man who was heading for the rear door. Robes flapping like an agitated crow the old man swept along, pausing only to genuflect, in pursuit of the young priest in jeans and T-shirt. "Don't you dare go near that door with those keys."
The younger man paused, an indulgent smile as he turned, "Father, it's nearly 2a.m. You should be in bed."
"How many times do I have to tell you? In the fifty-three years I've been priest of this parish, those doors have never been locked and we're not going to start now. Not everyone has their crisis of faith during business hours. Besides, didn't anyone ever tell you, the older you get, the less sleep you need." He plucked the keys from Dominic's hand, "You go off to bed. I'll see you in the morning."
Dominic shrugged, hands wide, defeated once again in an argument they replayed most nights. He'd never understand the old man's determination to put himself in harm's way but he'd wear him down eventually. "Very well, Matthew. I'll leave you to your empty, freezing church for another night while I-"
"Not empty, Dominic." Matthew gestured to the dark-clad figure in the rear pew. Both men dropped their voices.
"I didn't see him come in. Do you want me to stay?"
Matthew smiled, wistful, a little puzzled. "No, son, I know him. Go on. Off to bed with you." Dominic shrugged and departed, yawning. It had been a long day. If Matthew wanted to stay up all night, so be it.
Mick heard the arthritic creak as the priest approached and eased his ageing body into the pew, resting a callused hand on his shoulder. "Hello, Mick," his voice warm with the rasp of age.
Mick rose from his knees to sit beside the old man, "Father Matthew." Eye to eye they appraised, smiled. "I'm surprised to see you still here."
Matthew chuckled, "And I you."
Mick waited for consternation, questions, disbelief, fear. None came. "That's it?"
Another chuckle, "You'll tell me what you need me to know and the rest doesn't matter. You're here and I'm glad of it." His smile was warm and genuine, no fear, no wonder, only welcome. "I've thought of you often, regretted I couldn't have been more help to you. I always felt I failed you that night."
"No, Father, I just wasn't ready to be helped."
"But you are now?"
It was Mick's turn to chuckle, "It only took me fifty years, but yeah, I think I am."
"Well I can see you're a very different man from the sorry soul who hovered on our threshold for days before stepping foot into this house."
"You see a different man. Most people look at me and want to know why I'm the same."
"I see a man. Just a man. I have no idea how you came to be here, but I'm glad to see you again." They settled back in the pew, relaxing into the balm of each other's unquestioning company. "Back then you could barely meet my eye. You had the heavy heart of a man searching for a reason to go on. Now you look like a man who might just have found it."
With a nod and a smile Mick acknowledged Matthew's truth. "I can't believe you still keep the church open all night. It was brave in 1960. Now it seems like a death wish."
Matthew cast a glance around the church, "Much has changed in this community since then but people still need sanctuary. I've never been able to think of God closing his door. And it brought you back here, back to God, so tell me, Mick."
"Tell you?"
"How I can help? And please God," he paused to cross himself, "don't ask me about Hell again."
They both laughed, "I promise. No more Hell." Mick settled back into the pew, unsure where to start, disarmed by the warm welcome. He started at the beginning, "Something happened to me, a long time ago," he glanced up, expecting questions.
Matthew nodded, "Go on."
"You saw the man I was then. I felt… lost, ashamed," his voice dropped to a husky whisper, heavy with remembered pain, "abandoned."
"God abandons no-one, Mick. No-one."
"Not even someone stuck between life and death?" Eyes downcast, Mick chewed his lip, waiting.
"Ah the mysteries of life and death." Matthew smiled. "The fallback for priests faced with difficult questions - 'Why did my child die?' 'Why did this happen to me?' Always 'Why?' Let me tell you this, Mick. All those years ago, you were a man close to death but when I look at you now, I see a man full of life. I can't tell you why your life has happened like this, but I can tell you it is certainly a life worth living, if that's what you're asking."
"Maybe it is. But there has to be a reason."
"Why? Some things you just have to take on faith, Mick."
"What about God's plan?"
"God's plan is a cop-out for people who are afraid to live their lives. That way whatever goes wrong, there's always God to blame, right?"
Mick blanched, "What happened to listening and not giving advice?"
Matthew snorted, "I was young and innocent then - now I'm old and cranky. And the closer I get to death, the closer I feel to life. It makes an old man reflective and a little self-indulgent. I've seen enough to realise how little we ever really know about anything. All you can do is know yourself, Mick. That's it. Everything else is up for grabs. You do the best you can and see how it plays out."
"And if my best isn't good enough?"
"Good enough for whom? Back to blaming God again?"
"No. I… What if it's not good enough for her? I love her. But-"
"You think she's too good for you?"
Mick shrugged and grinned, "Definitely."
"Well then doesn't that make you a very lucky man?"
Mick leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clenching, "What if it's a trap? What if I let myself believe it - live my life the way I've always wanted, but I'm not supposed to be that man, to have that joy." A vision of his life without Beth, of pain, loss. "I can't-"
Matthew paused, taking a deep breath, tightening his grip on Mick's shoulder. "Mick, please, listen to me. God doesn't lay traps for people no matter who you are or what you've done. Every day is a new chance to live well, to be happy and to enrich the lives of those around you. That's a precious, precious gift. Release the past, let your burden go and live, Mick. Take your chance. Don't waste it by waiting for it to come to an end. I chose a different path, but I've seen enough to know it takes courage to take a risk on happiness. Are you brave enough for that?"
Mick turned to face the priest, a smile behind his eyes, pulling him into a close embrace. A simple touch once his undoing, now a sacred act of connection. "You know what? I think I am."
"Good. As a wise man once told me, 'Worrying about tomorrow is the death of today'. Now, make an old man happy and tell me about this wonderful woman of yours."
So they sat through the night, side by side, bonded by a friendship brief but steadfast as Mick poured out his devotion. Matthew listened, rapt, warmed and thrilled by another's joy. Finally Mick asked the question that had brought him back to St. Jude's, "Will you hear my confession, Matthew?"
"I think I just have, Mick." Matthew rested one hand on Mick's bowed head, making the sign of the Cross with the other as he said, "Ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. Because us old guys never forget the Latin."
"I… Thank you, Matthew. Thank you."
"It's a rare thing you've found, Mick. A rare and beautiful thing. Treat her well, my friend, or you shall have me to answer to. You can consider that your penance." He shifted to face the rear of the church where candlelight was ceding dominion to the breaking dawn. "Now, help an old man up and we'll watch the sun rise on another beautiful day."
Mick supported his elbow as he rose and held his arm as they shuffled out onto the steps. Mick shielded his eyes from the shards of sunlight poking through the horizon as Matthew turned and embraced him once more. "I think there's somewhere you need to be. Go with God, Mick. Go with God."
Grasping his shoulders in farewell, Mick took his leave and strode towards his car, light of tread and heart, turning to wave as he swung the car door open. Matthew returned his wave before turning for the sanctuary of the only place he had ever called home. It had been a remarkable night.
*****************************
All night Beth had waited, hoping against hope he'd come back to her. At the click of the door she sat a little straighter, smoothed a hand through her hair, prepared herself for whatever was to come. She knew he'd hear her pounding pulse, sense her fear, the tears she was determined wouldn't fall.
Mick closed the door softly behind him and crossed to perch on the coffee table in front of her. He rested his hands on her knees, feeling her tremble.
"Beth." She clamped her eyes tight as Mick stroked his fingers across her flushed cheek. "Beth, look at me," his voice warm, soft, filled with care. When she opened her eyes, she knew she couldn't hold back any longer, her tears falling freely as she saw the love in his eyes, felt the distance between them disappear. "I'm so sorry." As he drew her into his arms, he whispered, "I'm here. I'm here. Everything's going to be all right."
They settled in each other's embrace, close, tight, together.
It was going to be a beautiful day.
Author: redwinter101
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight or any of its characters
Note: This is a sequel to Bronze, set some time post-Sonata. You don't need to have read that story for this to make sense, but it works much better if you have. I'd been working on this story for a while but it lacked focus - until today.
***************************************************************************************************************
For allegrita, because the Mick I adore is a lover AND a fighter.
--- Sacrament ---
July 29th 2010
She'd felt it growing, spreading, a distance, a remoteness between them. Mick smiled his sad, sweet smile and told her she was imagining things, that everything was fine, that he'd never been happier, but she heard the lie catching his words, saw the flicker as he couldn't hold her gaze. There was a quiet desperation to the way he held her when they made love, so tender, as though they might break under the weight of hopes and dreams. Unfamiliar fear kept her from confrontation; she'd always stepped forward to face trouble head on, but now, she had too much to lose. In lonely silence, she clung to the moments they shared, analysing every word, every gesture, every touch, searching for clues, waiting and hoping Mick would draw her close once more.
Something about this particular day was different, sharper, clearer and Beth sensed a point of finality, of decision. Mick had arrived home just as she was leaving for work; she saw pain, felt need in his grasping touch as he pulled her close.
"I love you," he whispered.
It felt like goodbye.
*****************************
Weathered, dulled by age, a little battered, the bronze figure endured. Mick smiled at the comparison; fifty years had taken their toll. St. Jude, haloed in flame, still extended an embrace to the lost and the hopeless, a pool of welcoming light spilling from the ever-open church, catching the simple lettering of the painted, wooden sign hung from the door, "All welcome, always."
Mick's hesitation was brief this time, confident in the sanctuary to be found within. The church was silent, the choir long since disbanded, the regular worshippers departed for hearth and home. The pews and kneelers were the same, much-repaired and patched, peeling varnish and threadbare velvet a testament to years of bowed heads and bended knees. On so many days he'd felt God's absence but here comfort seeped into his soul. Inch by soothing inch tension leached from sprung muscle; eyes closed, his breathing calmed until finally he could hear the silence.
"Dominic!" The stage whisper interrupted Mick's reverie. "Dominic, what do you think you're doing?" An elderly priest hobbled from the altar giving chase to a younger man who was heading for the rear door. Robes flapping like an agitated crow the old man swept along, pausing only to genuflect, in pursuit of the young priest in jeans and T-shirt. "Don't you dare go near that door with those keys."
The younger man paused, an indulgent smile as he turned, "Father, it's nearly 2a.m. You should be in bed."
"How many times do I have to tell you? In the fifty-three years I've been priest of this parish, those doors have never been locked and we're not going to start now. Not everyone has their crisis of faith during business hours. Besides, didn't anyone ever tell you, the older you get, the less sleep you need." He plucked the keys from Dominic's hand, "You go off to bed. I'll see you in the morning."
Dominic shrugged, hands wide, defeated once again in an argument they replayed most nights. He'd never understand the old man's determination to put himself in harm's way but he'd wear him down eventually. "Very well, Matthew. I'll leave you to your empty, freezing church for another night while I-"
"Not empty, Dominic." Matthew gestured to the dark-clad figure in the rear pew. Both men dropped their voices.
"I didn't see him come in. Do you want me to stay?"
Matthew smiled, wistful, a little puzzled. "No, son, I know him. Go on. Off to bed with you." Dominic shrugged and departed, yawning. It had been a long day. If Matthew wanted to stay up all night, so be it.
Mick heard the arthritic creak as the priest approached and eased his ageing body into the pew, resting a callused hand on his shoulder. "Hello, Mick," his voice warm with the rasp of age.
Mick rose from his knees to sit beside the old man, "Father Matthew." Eye to eye they appraised, smiled. "I'm surprised to see you still here."
Matthew chuckled, "And I you."
Mick waited for consternation, questions, disbelief, fear. None came. "That's it?"
Another chuckle, "You'll tell me what you need me to know and the rest doesn't matter. You're here and I'm glad of it." His smile was warm and genuine, no fear, no wonder, only welcome. "I've thought of you often, regretted I couldn't have been more help to you. I always felt I failed you that night."
"No, Father, I just wasn't ready to be helped."
"But you are now?"
It was Mick's turn to chuckle, "It only took me fifty years, but yeah, I think I am."
"Well I can see you're a very different man from the sorry soul who hovered on our threshold for days before stepping foot into this house."
"You see a different man. Most people look at me and want to know why I'm the same."
"I see a man. Just a man. I have no idea how you came to be here, but I'm glad to see you again." They settled back in the pew, relaxing into the balm of each other's unquestioning company. "Back then you could barely meet my eye. You had the heavy heart of a man searching for a reason to go on. Now you look like a man who might just have found it."
With a nod and a smile Mick acknowledged Matthew's truth. "I can't believe you still keep the church open all night. It was brave in 1960. Now it seems like a death wish."
Matthew cast a glance around the church, "Much has changed in this community since then but people still need sanctuary. I've never been able to think of God closing his door. And it brought you back here, back to God, so tell me, Mick."
"Tell you?"
"How I can help? And please God," he paused to cross himself, "don't ask me about Hell again."
They both laughed, "I promise. No more Hell." Mick settled back into the pew, unsure where to start, disarmed by the warm welcome. He started at the beginning, "Something happened to me, a long time ago," he glanced up, expecting questions.
Matthew nodded, "Go on."
"You saw the man I was then. I felt… lost, ashamed," his voice dropped to a husky whisper, heavy with remembered pain, "abandoned."
"God abandons no-one, Mick. No-one."
"Not even someone stuck between life and death?" Eyes downcast, Mick chewed his lip, waiting.
"Ah the mysteries of life and death." Matthew smiled. "The fallback for priests faced with difficult questions - 'Why did my child die?' 'Why did this happen to me?' Always 'Why?' Let me tell you this, Mick. All those years ago, you were a man close to death but when I look at you now, I see a man full of life. I can't tell you why your life has happened like this, but I can tell you it is certainly a life worth living, if that's what you're asking."
"Maybe it is. But there has to be a reason."
"Why? Some things you just have to take on faith, Mick."
"What about God's plan?"
"God's plan is a cop-out for people who are afraid to live their lives. That way whatever goes wrong, there's always God to blame, right?"
Mick blanched, "What happened to listening and not giving advice?"
Matthew snorted, "I was young and innocent then - now I'm old and cranky. And the closer I get to death, the closer I feel to life. It makes an old man reflective and a little self-indulgent. I've seen enough to realise how little we ever really know about anything. All you can do is know yourself, Mick. That's it. Everything else is up for grabs. You do the best you can and see how it plays out."
"And if my best isn't good enough?"
"Good enough for whom? Back to blaming God again?"
"No. I… What if it's not good enough for her? I love her. But-"
"You think she's too good for you?"
Mick shrugged and grinned, "Definitely."
"Well then doesn't that make you a very lucky man?"
Mick leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clenching, "What if it's a trap? What if I let myself believe it - live my life the way I've always wanted, but I'm not supposed to be that man, to have that joy." A vision of his life without Beth, of pain, loss. "I can't-"
Matthew paused, taking a deep breath, tightening his grip on Mick's shoulder. "Mick, please, listen to me. God doesn't lay traps for people no matter who you are or what you've done. Every day is a new chance to live well, to be happy and to enrich the lives of those around you. That's a precious, precious gift. Release the past, let your burden go and live, Mick. Take your chance. Don't waste it by waiting for it to come to an end. I chose a different path, but I've seen enough to know it takes courage to take a risk on happiness. Are you brave enough for that?"
Mick turned to face the priest, a smile behind his eyes, pulling him into a close embrace. A simple touch once his undoing, now a sacred act of connection. "You know what? I think I am."
"Good. As a wise man once told me, 'Worrying about tomorrow is the death of today'. Now, make an old man happy and tell me about this wonderful woman of yours."
So they sat through the night, side by side, bonded by a friendship brief but steadfast as Mick poured out his devotion. Matthew listened, rapt, warmed and thrilled by another's joy. Finally Mick asked the question that had brought him back to St. Jude's, "Will you hear my confession, Matthew?"
"I think I just have, Mick." Matthew rested one hand on Mick's bowed head, making the sign of the Cross with the other as he said, "Ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. Because us old guys never forget the Latin."
"I… Thank you, Matthew. Thank you."
"It's a rare thing you've found, Mick. A rare and beautiful thing. Treat her well, my friend, or you shall have me to answer to. You can consider that your penance." He shifted to face the rear of the church where candlelight was ceding dominion to the breaking dawn. "Now, help an old man up and we'll watch the sun rise on another beautiful day."
Mick supported his elbow as he rose and held his arm as they shuffled out onto the steps. Mick shielded his eyes from the shards of sunlight poking through the horizon as Matthew turned and embraced him once more. "I think there's somewhere you need to be. Go with God, Mick. Go with God."
Grasping his shoulders in farewell, Mick took his leave and strode towards his car, light of tread and heart, turning to wave as he swung the car door open. Matthew returned his wave before turning for the sanctuary of the only place he had ever called home. It had been a remarkable night.
*****************************
All night Beth had waited, hoping against hope he'd come back to her. At the click of the door she sat a little straighter, smoothed a hand through her hair, prepared herself for whatever was to come. She knew he'd hear her pounding pulse, sense her fear, the tears she was determined wouldn't fall.
Mick closed the door softly behind him and crossed to perch on the coffee table in front of her. He rested his hands on her knees, feeling her tremble.
"Beth." She clamped her eyes tight as Mick stroked his fingers across her flushed cheek. "Beth, look at me," his voice warm, soft, filled with care. When she opened her eyes, she knew she couldn't hold back any longer, her tears falling freely as she saw the love in his eyes, felt the distance between them disappear. "I'm so sorry." As he drew her into his arms, he whispered, "I'm here. I'm here. Everything's going to be all right."
They settled in each other's embrace, close, tight, together.
It was going to be a beautiful day.