So I've finally finished my fanfiction about father Lantom's past. I'm not very happy with how it turned out, but I hope that next chapters will turn out better.

Inshuti[1]

My brother!

I'm so glad you agreed to take me in during my visit in New York. I'm eager to meet you after all those years. There is so much I want to tell you and I want to hear all the details about your life here. It will be like in the old days, when we were sitting in our presbytery in Urukundo[2] and talk about random things.

Everything is done. I'm packed, I have my tickets and my airplane is flying off tomorrow. I will be in your place on Monday at four PM of your time.

I can't believe I'm going to see you again after all those years! It's going to be a fantastic visit!

Imana iguhe umugisha[3], my friend.

Your brother in arms,

Manasse Ruzindana

Father Lantom was standing in the airport, looking for Manasse. The place was crowded, filled with people of various nationalities, he could deduct by passengers' clothes, languages or – to lesser extend – their passports. People coming through the terminals were meeting with their friends and families, hugging, kissing long time not seen closed ones. The priest was holding a big sign with his friend's name written in capital letters; and tried to spot in that crowd a tall, black-skinned man with a bit chubby cheeks and thin lips.

He suspected that Manasse would be much older right now, after all, Lantom himself didn't look the same like when he had last seen his friend. The priest wondered if Manasse changed much, both physically and mentally. Well, it was obvious he did… but how much? How much all the things they both had seen and experienced changed him? And in what way?

Lantom shook his head. No, it wasn't time to think about past. It was a time to rejoice. He and his friend will reunite. Wasn't it wonderful that Manasse was able to come here, to America? Especially considering all the things he had to do in Rwanda? Father Lantom guessed, they both needed a relief. Of course, priest's work is never done and world is a cruel place… but they could use a day or two without thinking about… about…

Well, he should be there somewhere. After all, he specifically said in the previous letter that he will come with a plane from Cairo. Father Lantom raised the sign even higher, hoping that Manasse will see it better. In the meantime, the priest didn't stop to look for his friend.

Suddenly he felt that someone behind him tapped his shoulder. Father Lantom lowered the sign a little and looked back. He smiled at the sight of Manasse. Just as he expected, his friend looked different than he remembered. His cheeks were still chubby, but also plowed with wrinkles. His brown hair was now gray. He also had a glasses on his nose, which made him look even older and more serious. He was wearing jeans and beige shirt, and the only indication of his profession was a white collar.

Father Lantom put the sign down. At first he couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't believe that it was really Manasse… but at the same time he was able to recognize him in spite of the signs of age.

Both priests smiled and almost immediately embraced each other. It was a short embrace that took him less than ten seconds, but it felt like ten minutes, before father Manasse decided to break it. He looked at his companion, still smiling.

"It's good to see you, my friend."

"You too, Manasse. Now," Father Lantom took his friend's bags and they directed towards the exit. "how was your flight?"

"Very uneventful, really." The Rwandan man said. "But still a bit unnerving. All I wanted was to read a really nice book, but my neighbor was constantly talking through the cell phone. And when he wasn't talking, he was snorting."

"Like father Innocent?" Lantom asked.

"Nobody snorts like father Innocent!" Manasse replied. "Seriously, there had to be something wrong with the nostrils of this man."

"Oh, obviously." Father Lantom nodded. "The first night I thought rhinos were attacking us."

"The food on the plane was weird too." Manasse continued his story. "Some gluey rice with corn and chicken. The chicken was drier than sandpaper. I don't even know what it was."

"Will it be of any comfort for you, if I tell you that I prepared fish for dinner?"

"Lantom, you couldn't cook a fish even if your life depended on it."

"How would you know? Maybe I've learned few receipts in last twenty years."

"Well, even your fish can't taste worse than that thing on the airplane."

Both priests exited the airport and father Lantom started to search for a cab. It didn't take him long, and soon he and Manesse were driving to the parish.

"You know," The African man began suddenly. "this reminds me of the time when you arrived to Rwanda and I was driving you to the Urukundo."

Father Lantom noticed that at the mention of Rwanda the taxi driver glanced at his passengers, but then his eyes returned on the road in front of him. The priest also decided to not pay much attention to it and turned to his friend, who didn't notice anything.

"Oh, you were so pretentious back then." Manasse said, laughing.

"Well, everybody is pretentious in their youth."

"I wasn't."

"Well then, I guess it's an American thing."

Father Manasse wanted to add something, but suddenly the taxi driver turned on the radio and the cab was filled with a rock music. The African priest looked at the radio with contempt, while his American friend observed him carefully. Father Lantom could feel the tension in the air, even though, the cab driver didn't realize its presence.

"Excuse me, young man," Father Manasse spoke to him. "could you turn that off?"

The driver looked at the Rwandan man.

"I can change the station, if you want, father. Just tell me what kind of music you like." He said, his right hand reaching to the radio.

"I don't want to listen to music." Manasse retorted. He was quiet, but there was some kind of silent anger in his tone. "I want you to turn that devil thing off."

"Okay, okay." The driver replied and did as he was told. He rolled his eyes with annoyance and looked at the road. "Geez…"

There was a short moment of silence. Father Lantom observed father Manasse, who took a deep breath, his eyes absent for a few seconds as he was watching the view in front of him. The American priest wondered if he should rest his hand on his friend's shoulder, but then Manesse turned to him and smiled.

They've spent the rest of the way talking about normal topics. About the latest book father Manasse was able to purchase (he was always fond of mystery novels, but finding one in Urukundo was really hard), about funny things that were happening to them during their missionary years; about the things they observed, sitting in the cab and looking through the window. Nevertheless, father Lantom was aware of the elephant that was with them in that car. The priest wondered if they were be able to avoid the subject forever, focusing on their wonderful reunion; or if this reunion will also be tainted.

When they arrived at the parish and father Lantom showed father Manasse his bedroom, he came to the kitchen and found the letters scattered on the table. He started to browse through them. They were mostly ads and bills, but one of them was something entirely different. It had a grey envelope with no sender's name. There was just one word – his name at the front, printed in Verdana font.

There was something eerie about this letter. Everything was telling father Lantom that he won't like the content. Still, he opened the envelope and took the letter out. He didn't even had to unfold it, because inside the envelope there was a square, postcard-sized piece of paper with only three sentences written on it:

Which crown would you choose? The white one? Or the red one?

A memory flashed before his eyes. A memory of faces looking at him standing at the pulpit and waiting for a sermon he was going to deliver; faces of people who hoped that God's house will save them from men with machetes…

"So what's with that fish?" Manasse entered the kitchen. His voice startled Lantom so much he almost dropped the letter on the floor. Almost.

"Oh… right." He said. "Just wait for awhile."

He put both the message and the envelope on the table, then he made one big pile from his correspondence, and took it to his bedroom. Only when he returned, he started to prepare the dinner.

It was early evening and Matt felt an urge to come to the church, maybe even talk with father Lantom, if the priest had time for it. He didn't expect to find anybody beside Lantom, however, the moment when the lawyer entered the temple, he heard the soft whispers somewhere in the front benches.

"Data wa twes' uri mw ijuru, izina ryawe ryubahwe, Ubgami bgawe buze, Iby'ushaka bibeho mw isi, Nk'uko biba mw ijuru…"

Matt didn't recognize the voice, nor the words it spoke, but he suspected that it was some kind of prayer. He slowly started to walk forward, careful to not disturb the other man.

"Uduhe non' ibyo kurya byacu by'uyu munsi; Uduharir' imyenda yacu, Nk'uko natwe twahariy' abarimw imyenda yacu…" The voice was whispering.

Matt took a seat and started to listen. There was something exotic in that voice and in that words; something that was bringing to his mind a foreign land, in the Middle East or Africa. He could almost feel on his skin a heat, making him sticky with sweat.

"Ntuduhāne mu bitwoshya, Ahubg' udukiz' Umubi; Kuk' ubgami n'ubushobozi n'icyubahir'o ar'ibyawe, None n'iteka ryose, Amen[4]."

Suddenly Matt heard something else – a sound of very familiar steps echoing on the church floor. Then came the smell and soon the lawyer could sense the presence of father Lantom sitting next to him.

"I'm sorry, Matthew," The priest began. "but I don't have much time today. I have a guest."

"Oh…" Matt felt a little pang of disappointment. "Well then, I'm sorry, father." He whispered the moment after. "I will come back the other time."

He stood up and was going to leave, when…

"Matthew, wait." Father Lantom touched his hand. The blind man turned to him. He could imagine a light smile on his confessor's face, when the priest said: "I would like you to meet someone."

Matt quickly realized that father Lantom's pulse sounded… heavy. There was something that bothered him, but he obviously tried to act casual. Was it because of the guest? Or something entirely different?

Soon (when the man in the front finished his prayer) the priest led both the lawyer and the mysterious man to the sacristy and introduced them to each other.

"Matthew, this is my friend from missionary years, father Manesse Ruzindana. Manasse," He turned to the other man. "this is Matthew Murdock."

Manasse smelled like sun, wool and few other, more subtle scents. He also, apparently, had eaten chicken and rice not so long time ago.

"Pleased to meet you, father." Matt said with smile and extended his hand towards father Lantom's guest.

"Pleasured to meet you too, mister Murdock." Manasse replied with a polite and a bit awkward voice.

When Matt and a Rwandan man shook their hands, the lawyer quickly noticed that Manasse's hand was wrinkled and rough. The priest had to be someone, who worked really hard all his life.

"Now," Father Lantom spoke. "how about some latte?"

"I was wondering when you offer it." Father Manasse responded, then turned to Matt and said: "Whenever, he spotted a decent coffee express, he wanted to make everybody latte."

"You don't like my latte?" Lantom asked.

"Who said that?" Manasse replied. "I love your latte! In fact, I was dreaming of your latte in the airplane."

Matt chuckled. It sounded familiar to him. He didn't have to listen to them for long to know that these two priests were friends.

And when all three men were sitting in the presbytery, over the cups of coffee, father Manasse was telling him anecdotes from Rwanda, mostly funny ones that were making Matt chuckle or at least smile. However, from time to time the lawyer was catching a glimpse of father Lantom's restless heartbeat and he knew that the priest's mind was now somewhere else.

"Did Lantom tell you the theory he had about the devil?" Father Manasse asked suddenly.

"He mentioned something." Was all Matt said, but he smiled lightly.

Father Lantom's heart made another loud beat.

"Well, when he got to know someone very well in Urukundo, sooner or later, he was telling them about the theory of devil being inconsequential to the greater scheme of things."

This time father Lantom only gave an annoyed sigh, which made Matt smile even wider.

"In fact, I was one of the first people he told about it." Manasse continued. "We were driving somewhere, I don't remember where, and Lantom said to me: 'You know, in the Hebrew devil means adversary…' and he proceeded with his theory. At first I was surprised that he was saying such things, but I guessed that was how American seminaries were teaching their clerics."

"When in fact, it was just me acting like I know better." Father Lantom added and this time he seemed to be a little more relaxed.

"So I let him finish the talking" Father Manasse went on. "and when he did, I said: 'Well, let me tell you how we view the devil in Africa. In Africa, we believe that everybody has a demon. This demon is feeding itself on human's weaknesses and destructive tendencies, like fear, anger and hatred. If you let these destructive tendencies overwhelm you, the demon is taking the control over you. Someone, who knows his weaknesses and strengths, can never be controlled by the demon.' That was it. That was all, I've had to say about the devil."

"And what father Lantom said on that?" Matt asked.

"I didn't say anything." The priest replied.

"You were unhappy, because I actually had a reply for your monumental theological thesis that nobody else was bothering to refute."

"Well, few people were refuting it. It's just I wasn't listening carefully enough."

There was something in father Lantom's voice, when he spoke these two sentences. Some kind of sorrow and shame lingering in the old shepherd's tone. At first Matt didn't notice it, but after few seconds, he remembered the story with Gahiji that father Lantom told him right after he shared with Matt this theory.

Maybe the things that were bothering him, were connected with father Lantom's past. Maybe – unlike his friend – father Lantom couldn't help, but keep remembering what he witnessed in Rwanda. Maybe that was why he seemed to be so distant.

But the heartbeat… the heartbeat wasn't indicating just sadness. There was also an uneasiness. Matt had a feeling that father Lantom was hiding something, something which was disturbing him deeply. And he was trying to act like nothing happened, so Matt and father Manasse wouldn't notice it.

Soon Matt said goodbye to his hosts and left the parish. For the rest of the night, he was thinking about his priest's heartbeat.

Matt knew that father Lantom was scared. But what he was actually scared of?

The language that father Manasse is using, is Kinyarwanda and it's a native langauge of Rwanda.

[1] Inshuti - friend

[2] Urukundo - love (I decided that this will be the name of the village where father Lantom's mission was)

[3] Imana iguhe umugisha - God bless you

[4] "Uduhe non' ibyo kurya..." etc. is The Lord's Prayer in Kinyarwanda.

The father Manasse's reply about demons is something I've read in a book about African symbolism. This is supposed to be a notion common in Africa worldwide. Also, there are positive demons who bring visions to people.