God Help the Outcasts

Ida and Cain have something in common. Hinted Cain/Ida/Jesus (this is not your typical love triangle)

They met once. They met again, and again. They were enemies, but when Cain goes to church one day with his sister, he sees a scarred gypsy girl wandering the halls.

I think God manipulated this fanfic. It was supposed to be a romance. It ended up being religious…and there was never a good ending for it…

Cain and Mary Weather Hargreaves entered the cathedral. Cain usually avoided churches whenever he could because he always felt as though he was being put on display for all the evils he had committed, starting with the attempted murder of his father. He could never stay comfortable in his seat.

Half listening to the priest, Cain let his eyes scan the room. His eyes settled on the Christ, hanging from the cross. He lowered his gaze. Don't look at me that way, he thought. I had to do all that I did.

He excused himself and wandered the cathedral. A voice he knew stopped him with its clarity. He glanced around the corner and spotted a gypsy girl. But he knew that voice.

Dressed in a simple frock, sewn back together from being ripped. Her black hair covered half of her face.

I don't know if you can hear me or if even there

I don't know if you would listen to a gypsy's prayer

Yes, I know I'm just an outcast

I shouldn't speak to you

Still I see your face and wonder

Were you once an outcast too?

She sat down and stared at a statue of the infant Christ and folded her hands in her lap, staring at the statue.

Cain leaned against the pillar and watched her. It was not something he had fathomed before: that Christ himself was an outcast. He never bothered to pay attention. He was the one with the cursed name of the world's first murderer.

God help the outcasts, hungry from birth

Show them the mercy they don't find on earth

God help my people, they look to you still

God help the outcasts or nobody will

Cain blinked, staring at the gypsy girl who had sided with his father. He wondered why she bothered to pray to a god who had abandoned him to his father's hands. And what about the gypsies? They were outcasts because of their nomadic behavior and beliefs. People were entirely against them, weren't they? So why would this girl, who Cain considered his enemy simply because she joined league with his father, be at a church praying?

I ask for nothing! I can get by

But I know so many less lucky than I

Please help my people, the poor and down trod

I thought we all were the children of God

God help the outcasts:

The children God

She stood and turned around. She saw Cain and stopped. "You," she said, "The Card Master's son."

"So it is you, as well," Cain said. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same to you."

"I never pegged you to believe in Christ."

"I don't."

"Then why were you praying to him?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Am I not allowed to?"

"No, I didn't mean that. I was wondering why…if you don't believe in him, why pray to him?" She sat down again.

"My people, as you know, are continuously treated like trash because of our descent. We are always looked down on and treated like shit. I'm so tired of watching my people suffer for something we can't control. Does that answer your question?" Cain nodded. "So why are you here?"

"My sister dragged me here. Usually I try to avoid this place. I feel like everything about me is exposed. Does that make sense?"

She nodded. "I came here to get sanctuary. I was being stalked. Again." She sat back down, her head bowed. Cain sat next to her. "I know what you mean when you said that everything felt exposed here. I've been in this corner for about an hour now. At first, I felt sick with myself, to the point of crying. I tried, but I couldn't stop myself from crying. After a little while, I just had to say something. Does…that make sense?"

"A little bit," Cain admitted. "It feels like something's gnawing at my heart."

"I know," she said. "I actually feel like a heavy burden has been lifted from my shoulders, now that I've been here and prayed."

Cain blinked and glanced at her. "Really?"

"Yes."

"What would my father think if he knew you were here?"

"Who knows," she said. "What of you?"

"He'd say it'd be impossible for me to earn forgiveness."

"Do you believe that?"

"I don't know what to believe," Cain admitted, staring at the infant's face. He glanced above the Madonna and stared at the inscription:

"That says, 'And God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son so that whoever believes in him will never die, but have eternal life,' John 3: 16."

"What does that mean?"

Cain shrugged. "I wish I knew."

"Perhaps I could help." They turned and stared at the priest. He had a warm smile and kind eyes. Cain and the gypsy remained seated, staring at him as he approached. "I take it neither of you are practitioners." They shook their heads. The priest scratched his chin. "To start, when God created the heavens and the earth, and mankind sinned against him, he not only punished them for their disobedience, but also promised to save them one day. That plan was that he would sacrifice his son to save his creation."

Cain scoffed. "How is that helping? Isn't that causing more death?"

The priest smiled patiently. "Perhaps I was not clear enough. We call the sacrifice, God's son, but it is actually God himself who gave the sacrifice." And on the priest went, explaining God's sacrifice to save every soul from the weakest babe to the strongest and most powerful man. "The power of that saving grace is extended to the both of you as well. Forgive me, but I heard you talking. Young man, believe me: your father is wrong. No matter what it is you have done, if you ask it, God will forgive you. Even if you remember your past sins, it is forgotten by God."

Cain shook his head and stood. "It sounds superficial to me," he said. "Forgive me father, but I'm not convinced." He walked back to collect Mary. His eyes landed on the crucified Christ again. This time, he couldn't tear his eyes away. Are you really stupid enough to die for someone so undeserving as myself?

"I wouldn't call it stupidity, per say," a voice whispered in the back of his head. "More like stupidly in love with you and your family—yes, I love your father also—and everyone around you whom you come in contact with. Cain, I have seen what your father has done to you. I see your scars, scars that you're not supposed to bear. Scars you were given for your sins—sins that you never committed. I know what it is like to bear the sins of others. I bore every sin on my back and carried them to my death."

Who are you?

"Who do you think I am?"

Cain stared at the cross and shook his head. Impossible.

"No, not impossible. Improbable. You never thought I'd bother to talk to you."

Then why?

"Because you talked to Ida—the gypsy girl. And I had just spoken with her. Cain, you are my son and my brother. There is no reason for you to seek vengeance. I will do so. Do you trust me?"

I don't even know if I'm hallucinating or not!

Cain tore his gaze away and spotted Mary. He tapped her shoulder and motioned that it was time to go. They left. "I love you, Cain. Come back anytime you want. Or better yet, invite me over. All you have to do is say my name and I'll be there."

I find that hard to believe.

"Try me."

Cain smirked. Fine. I will sometime.

They left the church. Cain slumped in his seat and stared outside. The inner dialogue he had with…he so wanted to say Jesus, but at the same time, thought it made him mad…well, whomever it was with, stuck to him like glue even when they arrived home, when he spoke on the phone with Uncle Neil and Crehador, at dinner, and even as he was getting ready for bed.

Fine! "I don't know how to do this, but here it goes," Cain swallowed and braced himself for feeling like an idiot. "Are you there, God?"

"I am here, Cain."

Cain paused. He couldn't believe it. "I don't know what to say next?"

"Why not ask me to forgive you for your past sins."

"Why would you? After everything I've done, why even bother trying to help me?"

"You know what, Paul and Moses asked the same thing. Every person who has murdered or sinned terribly has asked me why I bother. I always tell them that I bother because I love them."

Cain shook his head. "I'm not worthy."

"Tell me who is. There is not one single person on this earth that is worthy of being forgiven, Cain. But I forgive them anyway."

"Why?"

"Because I love them. How about this: think about it a moment. What is it you want? Depending on your answers, I will or will not give it."

"You make it seem that so much is in your power," Cain said, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Yes, I want forgiveness for whatever sin you have written down on me. I want you to protect Mary. I can't always be there to protect her myself, so if you have the power to do that, please watch over her. I want vengeance against my father and his organization—"

"And what of Ida and your brother, Jizabel?"

Cain paused, thinking.

"You're brother is suffering at your father's hands just as much as you are. Ida joined Delilah because, like you, she wants revenge against the people who wronged her. Instead of asking for vengeance against Delilah, why not ask me to grant them mercy and wisdom to see what they're doing is wrong."

"But…"

"But nothing. You can't judge your brother for his faults. Yes, he has sinned against you. But if you really wish to reap vengeance on him, then reach out to him. He will be too shocked to even know what to do with you. He will question why he even bothers to try and kill you. Try it."

"I don't think I can."

"I know it's hard, but I want you to try anyway."

Cain shook his head. "What do you want me to do?"

"Best question you can ever ask! I want you to follow me, Cain."

"I meant about Jizabel."

"Bring him to me."

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"To bring him to me, you must learn to follow my ways."

Cain sighed. "It still doesn't make sense."

"Think it over."

Cain shrugged. "I'll do that. Goodnight."

"Technically, people end prayer's with Amen, but I think I like 'goodnight' better. Less formal that way."

Cain felt lighter, as though a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders. He fell asleep in a good mood and feeling so much better than he had been in his whole life. He promised himself the first time he tried to kill his father that he would not shed another tear, but years of holding back bore down on him. He felt light, but at the same time, heavy.

For the first time in years, Cain cried himself to sleep. A part of him wondered if he had imagined it, but he could swear, he felt a hand stroking his head. Perhaps the hand of an angel? No, the hand of God.

~God Help the Outcasts~

Three weeks passed by. Cain had gotten into the habit of talking to God on almost a daily basis. It was a comfort, even if he had nothing to talk to God about, simply talking to him for a few minutes seemed to change Cain's entire view.

Cain walked down the street and spotted Ida. He approached her. She looked at him and stood. "Earl Hargreaves."

"I…I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"I don't have a name, but if you wish to call me something, then call me Ida."

"Ida. How have you been these last few weeks?"

She shrugged. "I'm not so sure. You?"

"Somehow, I feel better than ever," he said. She scowled. "Sorry, I don't mean to brag. That was not my intent at all."

"Then God must have chosen his favorite."

"You know, I don't think that's true." They walked down the street together and Cain explained what he had been doing every day during the last three weeks.

"You really think that has something to do with your change in attitude?"

"What else can it be?"

Ida shrugged. "Who knows? I have to go."

Cain nodded and they shook hands. They parted ways. Cain looked behind him. Ida turned the corner. "God bless you, Ida," he whispered. Rain began to pour down and Cain fixed his hat.

"He is changing, you can tell."

I have a feeling it's your fault, Ida thought, walking into Delilah.

"You don't have to go in there."

And be labeled a deserter? I don't think so. It'd be bad for me if I tried.

"You give me little credit. If you ask it, I can protect you."

I don't doubt that you can, Ida thought, entering the building. It's whether or not you will.

"So says the girl who asks for nothing."

I don't ask for anything.

"There are some things you are allowed to keep for yourself, Ida. The burdens you bear are something you don't have to walk with. Cain realized that. Are you sure you want to go on living the way you do when you know that you're being used by Alexis?"

Ida stood before the Card Master. The meeting began. As she watched various members speak, she also began to wonder what they were trying to do. "This is wrong," she whispered. But enough people heard her to silence the speaker and turn heads. Ida paled.

"What was that, Ida?" Alexis asked, smiling. Ida bowed her head.

"I am sorry. I spoke out of turn."

"Do you not approve of what we are doing here in Delilah?"

"It…"

"Go on, I will protect you. Say what you want to say. What? Do you not trust me? Try me. I dare you."

Fine. "I've been thinking a lot," Ida said. "And, to be honest, Card Master, what we're doing here in Delilah is blasphemy. Not just that, we are murderers for the sake of science. I can't get it out of my head that so many people here are trying to play god." Ida swallowed, nervous. The Card Master's face was going redder and a vein pulsed. "I don't want a part of this anymore." Surprised that no one tried to stop her—let alone kill her—Ida stepped out of the room and walked out of Delilah. Where do I go now?

"I'm sure Cain will be glad to know he has an ally who knows Delilah's movements. You are a strong woman, Ida, but you don't have to protect yourself alone. I will protect you, and so will Cain if you ask him to."

Ida stopped at the fountain where she first met Cain several months ago. I wonder if you can fix my body and make it beautiful again.

"I can, but that does not mean that I will." Ida sat down at the fountain and examined her mask. "And if you'd like to know, yes. I was an outcast. In many ways, I rebelled against the leaders of my time without violence. My actions were still enough to condemn me to death."

Ida shook her head. "I want to know why you never help my people."

"Who says I don't? Ida, I know what pains you have gone through. And the pains of your people. I have wept—I still weep—for your pains. All I ask is that you trust me. Do you trust me, Ida?"

Ida glanced at her reflection. She nodded. "I'm going to need to trust you now, won't I?"

Two outcasts were brought together one day, confused and lost.

They did not know where their place was until a voice spoke to them and challenged them.

That voice changed their lives.

Do you think they went mad?

Thousands across the world hear that voice even today.

Even the most vicious, the most evil, and the most vile of all mankind can be changed by that voice.

That voice softens hearts and the sacrifice of the voice's owner moves people to tears.

If only the people, both outsiders and insiders, could learn to listen to that voice and understand the hope he has given us.

Besides, the voice itself, once upon a time, was an outcast too.