Yeah, yeah
God is great
Yeah, yeah
God is good
Yeah, yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
--from One Of Us by Joan Osborne
The girl straightened his collar with a frown.
"Really, Micah. This'll do you a world of good, I promise." The boy scowled and jerked away from her hands.
"I don't want to do this," he muttered. Her eyes softened; she smoothed his black hair carefully.
"No one's making you do anything," Gabe said in a gentle voice. "If you don't want to go in, you don't have to." She paused, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Micah's paler-than-usual forehead. "But I'd really like you to." He glanced reluctantly up at Gabe. She was wearing a pale blue summer dress that made her eyes look that much brighter, and her face was hopeful. This was something she really wanted him to do. Micah felt a stab of guilt.
(she doesn't know she wants to help)
"Gabrielle," Edith said suddenly, startling them both. "We're already late. Is he coming or not?" Gabe shot him a pleading look, and Micah caved.
"I'm coming," he said softly. Edith nodded and disappeared past the big wooden doors. Gabe smiled down at him, smoothing his hair again.
"Are you sure?" she murmured. "I know you feel a little uncomfortable, and I don't want to force--" Micah cut her off with a weak nod.
"Yeah." He glanced at the doors with a mix of dull fear and sick apprehension. "Lead the way." Gabe paused, then gave his hand a light stroke.
"Okay," she said quietly, smiling again. She slipped past the open doors silently.
Micah hesitated, took a deep breath, and wheeled slowly into the church.
The priest had already reached the first reading when they took their seats. Micah, feeling bulky and out of place in his wheelchair, had to be situated in the very back row. Gabe settled into the pew, gave him a kind smile, and turned her attention to the preacher. Micah smiled back, but it didn't feel quite right. Besides, he couldn't help remembering the last time he had sat in the back row.
(blood everywhere)
Gabe was listening to the reading with rapt attention. It was very clear she was a frequent church-goer.
(She wasn't there. She doesn't know what it was like.)
Micah shifted uncomfortably and tried to keep his mind on the preacher.
(She didn't hear Mr. Simpson's scream for help, or the terrified gasps of the crowd.)
He stared straight ahead, but out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed someone in the third row. A blink, and the stranger was Mr. Simpson.
(She didn't see the blood oozing from his nose--)
Micah tried not to look, but his memory and his eyesight turned against him. The Mr. Simpson look-alike dabbed at his nose idly with a handkerchief, only to find it dotted with crimson blood.
(--and his ears--)
He didn't fully see Mr. Simpson -- that was what it wanted him to do -- but the vision was there, and it was clear.
(--and his eyes--)
Micah jerked violently when the hand fell on his shoulder.
"Honey," Gabe said, sounding worried. He offered a weak smile, glad to be out of the frightening memory. The stranger had turned back into a nameless stranger.
"Hm?" Micah asked quietly, trying to sound nonchalant. Gabe's blonde brows knitted in concern.
"You looked like you were going to cry," she whispered. "Are you sure you're--" But then the congregation rose, and organ music began.
"Go on," he urged, looking back at his hands. "Time to sing." Gabe, still frowning, glanced at her hymnal.
"But--"
"I'm fine," Micah assured her softly. She didn't respond; one hand smoothed his hair tenderly as she joined in with the rest of the church, getting to her feet. Micah glanced down at his hands uncomfortably, unable to rise in respect for the Lord.
(you should tell her what happened)
He was supposed to watch the priest, he knew, but Micah found himself watching Gabe instead.
(she deserves to know)
She was staring straight ahead where she was supposed to. Apparently, this was a song she knew; her hymnal had been abandoned on the pew.
(she deserves to know what happened in Hemmingford)
Gabe continued singing in a high, clear voice that gradually blended in with the rest of the church.
"And he will raise you up on eagle's wings--"
Micah felt something inside him twist painfully. They had sang before the... accident.
(do you remember?)
That was what they had called it, wasn't it? An accident?
(you do remember don't you)
His stomach lurched.
(thought you'd forgotten hadn't you)
They had sang -- what was it? -- Here I Am. It was a very pretty song.
"--bear you on the breath of dawn--"
(ah but they sang you didn't)
Micah swallowed, but his mouth was suddenly filled with a foul taste.
(you were holding a knife)
"--make you to shine like the sun--"
The voices of the congregation rang out clearly, but it was a dull sound to his ears.
(and a voo doo doll)
"--and hold you in the palm--"
Micah squeezed his eyes shut tightly.
(in the house of the Lord)
"--of his hand." The song ended, the music drifted off, and Gabe sat down. She glanced at him -- just barely -- and immediately frowned.
"Micah," she whispered, eyes widening. "Honey, what's wrong? You look like you're going to be sick!" He swallowed back the rising bile in his throat.
"I'm fine," he repeated for what felt the fortieth time that morning. Gabe watched him silently, then took his hand gently in hers.
(she understands TELL HER)
It made him feel a little better, so Micah swallowed hard and fought the stinging memories.
He managed to make it to communion before having to excuse himself to the lobby of the church. Had he stayed, Micah would have most certainly threw up all over the congregation.
(stupid it was stupid to come)
Micah sat alone in the lobby, dry sobs rising in his throat like the light breakfast that was sure to follow if he opened his mouth.
(the Lord forgives all)
It had been Gabe's intention, obviously; to obtain spiritual forgiveness for him.
(He forgives all except you)
But she didn't know that it was beyond his reach. Micah looked down at his neat blue suit in disgust. Like it was going to get him into Heaven, a nice suit. He was stained permanently with the blood of those who had died for his weakness.
"Micah?" Gabe's worried voice broke the lobby's uneasy silence. He didn't turn, only his his face in his hands.
"Fine," he mumbled, and he knew that neither Gabe nor himself believed that worn-out lie. "Fine, fine, I'm just fine--" His words were muffled by his fingers. The tears had started before he even reached the doors, and Micah felt immensely embarrassed because of it.
"Don't lie," Gabe interrupted, tone firm. She dropped to a knee before him, hands falling on his shoulders. "Don't lie, honey. There's absolutely no reason to." A sob hitched in his throat, and Micah chanced a glance at her face. That was a mistake; the compassion and concern there turned the light sob into a hard one and he had to cover his eyes again.
"I shouldn't even be here," he choked, tears making his palms slick and wet. "God doesn't want me here, no one does--" Gabe's fingers on his shoulders began kneading gently.
"Sh, sh." She began hushing him softly, and the quiet sound was a comfort in itself to Micah. He managed to bite back the sobs, but his tears were still hot and painful. "Micah, sweetheart," Gabe said once he had calmed down a little. "Why would you think that God doesn't want you here?" He brought up a shaky hand to rub at his face, but her thumb gently wiped away the tears before he had the chance.
(don't tell her)
(tell her)
His thoughts battled, but Micah found a way around the question.
"Some sins," he said carefully, "cannot be forgiven." He felt satisfied with his answer, but Gabe shook her head slowly.
"Oh, no." She took one of his hands in hers and stroked it tenderly. "That's not true. No matter what you think you've done, God forgives you." Micah sniffed quietly, feeling embarrassed and foolish.
"Oh?" he asked softly, and the touch of cynicism was not lost on Gabe.
"Yes. When you ask for his forgiveness, God gives it." Gabe paused, then spread his palm carefully and laid a light kiss on it. "In God's eyes, you are forgiven for whatever sins you have committed. And in my eyes, too." Micah watched in silence, gradually regaining his grip on sanity.
(don't tell her)
(TELL HER)
Gabe curled his fingers back over his palm and offered a weak smile.
"Okay?" Her voice was that of an unsure child; one who has done the best they could and is positive it wasn't enough.
"Yeah," he murmured.
(don't tell her)
(TELL HER, YOU FRICKING MORON!)
"Communion's almost over, sweetheart." Gabe smoothed his hair tenderly, standing. "We can wait out here until it's done, okay?" He looked up at her, and right then
(!!TELL HER!!)
he wanted to let it all out; everything that happened in Gatlin, everything that happened in Hemmingford. A true Catholic confession. But then, two seconds after the blind, desperate need to tell, something hit him.
(she doesn't think you're a monster because she doesn't know)
"Micah?" Gabe murmured, and he blinked.
"Yeah, sure," Micah mumbled.
(she can't know she's the only one who really loves you)
She patted his arm comfortingly.
"We'll try this again when you feel better, okay?" He nodded slowly.
"Okay." Gabe started to pull away, but he grabbed her hand impulsively. "Thank you," he whispered, and gave her a gentle kiss
"No need to thank me," she said after drawing back. Gabe jabbed a finger upwards with a grin. "Thank Him."
"Sure will," he agreed, trying to hide the waver to his voice.
Right then, Micah swore Gabe would never know his bloody past. Ever.