A/N: I've planned to write a three-set fanfiction revolving around the characters of Bourne Legacy, namely Aaron, Marta, and Eric. The first piece is held his heart featuring Eric Byer, which is published here in FF and in AO3. This is the second piece, I hope you enjoy.
Title: might yet find grace
Character/s: Marta S., Eric B.
Summary: the prayer leaves her memory when she needs it the most. —Marta S., Eric B.—
In the dark shower Dr. Marta stands bruised and afraid, praying for redemption.
(except only that she has forgotten the words that come after as we forgive those who trespass against us—)
The cold spray is her holy water blessed in guilt, is sharpened ice on her skin that knifes the good Doctor down to her very bones. In the gloom, Marta repeats the only benediction she knows:
"It was for science."
She enunciates it like an orator trying to prove something to empty space, a preacher preaching nothing.
That is the truth, this is the truth
Marta thinks, even if on her silent-tongue it sounds more like a coward's supplication.
Like an apology angry and half-meant, almost unremorseful.
It was for science. She'd said it as if it explained everything.
As if it would save her.
—=I=—
Eric Byer is an ascended hero among the political hierarchy of fools. He knows all the alliteration, every allusion the damned country has ever known. And he does not hesitate to show Marta just what she is.
"Do you pray at night, doctor?"
Marta looks at the farthest corner of the shoddy apartment and chokes back a cry.
"Who do you pray to when you've played god?"
—=I=—
Then,
There comes a knock on the door.
"Doc?"
This, the Doctor knows, is the prologue of her damnation. So she rankles into the deepest corner of her memory, runs across the halls of her conscience, searching for the next words.
—deliver us from evil.
Those aren't the words; they come after, the Doctor thinks.
They come after the benediction.
—=I=—
"I might repent, might yet find grace," he said,
"What could you do?" The Devil shook his head,
"You're not the first, my friend; we know your kind.
—A.D. Hope, Faustus
