A/N: I am aware that the plot of this fic is a bit weird. I just wanted to try something new and different, and this is definitely different, at least I haven't read another LWD fic like it. FYI: I am actually Catholic so this is in no way meant to be offensive. However, just because I am Catholic I do not presume to think I know every single thing about Catholicism. I also don't know exactly how priests think- cause I'm not one- so the priest's opinions are pure educated guess work on my part.
Disclaimer: If I owned LWD I would get Mike Seater to a barbershop stat and return him to his former glory.
Casey glanced at her watch for what had to be the fiftieth time and sighed loudly, again. A scathing look from a praying parishioner had her bowing her head in embarrassment. She knew that those congregation members who came to church on Wednesday nights meant serious business and did not appreciate being interrupted by grumbling teenagers, but her impatience just couldn't be helped.
Casey knew that Mr. Clegg was all of eighty years old and that it took him a longer than average amount of time to do certain things as a result of his advanced age, but, really, how long could one man confess? Casey was also aware of the fact that unlike most of the other church goers, Mr. Clegg was a regular confession attendee – he could not have possibly committed that many sins during the past thirty days.
She latched her eyes onto the confessional door, mentally willing it to open. Usually she wouldn't be this unreasonable or selfish—in general she was a fair person. However, this was not the typical pre-Christmas or pre-Easter, clear-your-conscious-before-the-holidays confession. She needed to rid herself of some serious guilt, now, or she was likely to make herself sick with the stress of holding it all in.
Finally the little red bulb above the confessional entrance went out, signaling that the session had concluded. As soon as Mr. Clegg walked out the door, Casey bowled past him without so much as an "excuse me," nearly knocking him over in the process.
Upon entrance Casey closed the door, silently wishing that it had a lock and was soundproof. She kneeled immediately on the hassock provided and waited for the distorted image of the priest to appear behind the screen before crossing herself.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, It has been," she paused a moment, counting in her head, "eight months since my last confession."
"And what type of sins have you committed during that time, my child?"
Casey chewed on her bottom lip a moment—a nervous habit she had picked up of late—before answering. "I forgot to do the dishes, I yelled at my mother, and I am coveting and lusting after a boy who is completely wrong for me," the last part was said in a barely audible voice.
But the priest had years of practice in hearing the most hushed, rushed, and wavering confessions, so he heard what she said.
"Is this young man courting another young lady?"
"No," she answered flatly. He was dating a lot, but he wasn't courting anyone.
"Is he abusive or mean?"
"Only to me," she muttered. "No, not really; he has a good heart."
"Well… um… is there a startling age difference between the two of you?" The priest was grasping at straws now.
"We're only months apart. What's with all the questions anyway?" she asked sharply. "Why can't you just absolve my sins and give me a penance? Isn't that the whole point of confession?"
"A major point of confession is gaining forgiveness," he conceded. "But I can't offer forgiveness, and in turn ease the obvious pressure on your heart, if I don't know what I'm forgiving." She could hear him rubbing his hands together. "So far I don't see the problem with you liking this young man… I'm not finding the sin in your adolescent crush," he was clearly confused. All children experience crushes, it is—
"Stop calling it that—it is not a crush," she emphasized her point by slamming her hymnal against the wall. "I'm in love with him," she snapped.
Father Kelly could hear her sobs even though she was obviously trying to keep her cries silent.
"First loves are supposed to be joyous experiences," he said in an attempt to soothe her.
"There is nothing 'joyous' about my situation. I can't love him," she said miserably.
"I don't understand- why can't you?"
"Because he's my brother," she said forcefully, before completely breaking down and losing all control of her emotions.
"Really?" was all he could get out.
In Father Kelly's line of work he had met every kind of person and heard all types of stories. He really hadn't thought that he was able to be shocked anymore.
He was wrong.
"Well, he's my stepbrother, but same difference," she said, shrugging her shoulders.
The priest released a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding.
"Hmm, there may be a little bit of a difference," he mumbled wryly.
"Huh?"
"Have you acted on your feelings?" He needed to have as many facts as possible before he decided what to say, or do.
"Oh God, no!" she answered emphatically.
"Well, okay then," he sounded relieved. "Maybe you're not having the most er… proper kinds of thoughts about this boy, but technically—
"Screw the technicalities," she cut in, face flushed with emotion. "I'm sorry for my language," she apologized after hearing his sharp intake of breath, "but you don't seem to understand- this can't be life. This can't be my life. I mean, things had been going great this past year. I'm a cheerleader now and the captain of the football team likes me, and he's perfect," she said dejectedly. She began ticking of points on her fingers, "he's smart and funny, and so help me God, he is genuinely nice, but…" her voice trailed off.
"But he's just not your stepbrother?" he guessed.
"Max, that's the football player, he just doesn't have Derek's soulful eyes, or his smirk, or…" She struggled a moment trying to think of how to word it. "Max likes me, but when Derek looks at me I can tell that he loves me, and not for who he thinks I am—he loves me for whom he knows I am," Casey explained.
"And your stepbrother, Derek, he's told you all this?" Father Kelly asked skeptically.
"No, not in so many words."
The Father cleared his throat tactfully. He may have been a teenager many years ago, but his memory of his adolescence was still relatively fresh in his mind and he just couldn't imagine a teenage boy telling a girl, especially his stepsister, that he loved her, particularly in such a passionate way.
"Okay, so not in any words. That's irrelevant though. Trust me; he feels the same way I do," she responded simply.
He lowered his head into his hands and sighed. "So let me get this straight, you're in love with your stepbrother and he reciprocates your feelings. And, even though the two of you have never discussed your feelings, each of you knows how the other feels, correct?"
"Yes, that is the whole sordid truth. Now, please punish me so that I may begin to feel better," she begged.
Punish her? I'm a priest not a nun. "Child, if you wanted to be punished you should have told this story to your parents, not your priest," he said dryly. "I'm not here to punish people. I'm here to ease your pain and offer forgiveness and guidance."
"Then offer me guidance," Casey said, voice laden with exasperation. "Tell me how to drive these immoral and sinful thoughts for my stepbrother from my mind, so that I won't be damned to hell."
Father Kelly leaned back heavily against his old wooden chair, slightly taken aback by the vehemence in her voice. If ever there was a person in need of emotional direction it was this young woman.
The priest sat and thought for a while. This may be some of the most important or, at the very least, some of the most heeded advice he would ever give, and he did not want to screw things up any more than they already were.
He was quiet so long that Casey let out a tentative, "Father?"
He sighed for the umpteenth time, before speaking. "I'm not going to tell you to become romantically involved with your stepbrother. However, if one were to start a relationship with their stepsibling, I do not believe that such a relationship would automatically condemn the parties involved to an afterlife spent in hell," he said carefully.
Casey blinked several times; she wasn't exactly sure what he meant. "So what you're saying is…"
"What I am saying is God loves you, Jesus loves you, and their love for you is perpetual- it is not so weak that it would cease to exist over a matter such as this. I can't—no, I won't—tell you to be with Derek, but I can tell you that if you are with him God will continue loving you."
"You really believe that?" she asked with uncertainty. It wasn't like she had lied about spilling juice on the white carpet; she was in love with a relative.
"If I didn't I wouldn't be much of a priest, now would I?" And even though she couldn't see it, she could most definitely hear the smile in his voice.
"Thank you," she said as she stood up. Casey wasn't sure what, if anything, she was going to do about her situation with Derek, but she did feel better, and that's what she had come to confession for.
She put her hand on the doorknob, but paused before opening it. "Wait, what about my penance? I want some type of punishment and not a light one either."
"Uh, penances are not exactly punishments, but since you insist, I want you to say the rosary—
"I can do that—
He held up his hands to cut her off. "I want you to say the rosary every night for one year."
"Okaay," she had asked for it and she got it. "Bye, Father Kelly."
"Miss, he said stopping her, "all you can do is what you think is right and good."
"I will."
OOOOOOOO
When Casey stepped outside she was met with a downpour. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself and began fiddling with her umbrella as she made a mad dash for the parking lot. Her eyes were bent to her stubborn umbrella, so she didn't see the man running in the opposite direction until she bumped into him.
"Jeez, I'm sorry… Derek?"
"Casey?" he responded, his voice mirroring her own in shock.
"What are you doing here?" they asked simultaneously.
"Umm… I, uh—
"Its okay, Derek. Never mind," she said cutting off his ramblings. "I've got to get to dance practice, but…"
"Yeah?"
"Look," she paused, searching for the right words, "I think that we're going to be okay." Without waiting for a response or even a sign that he had heard her, she took off for her car.
THE END
A/N: You can take her final words to Derek to mean anything you want. I wanted the end to be sort of ambiguous. Also, I don't know what religion they are supposed to be, so I figured that they had just as much chance of being Catholic as anything else.
Reviews Are Always Welcome!