Yuletide Redemption
By Katie
Disclaimer: Neither Vincent nor his world are mine. Catholicism isn't mine. Whatever's left is. Sorry, I know the title sucks.
Note: As it's been little under a year since my last confession, I don't perfectly recall the whole ceremony of it. So I fudged it. Katie's version of Catholicism. Enjoy. ^_^
~*~*~*~
Vincent stumbled into the little Midgar church, the bitter winter winds slamming the door closed behind him. He shivered slightly despite his iron control and cursed the reintroduction of natural weather to the Midgar slums.
Footsteps echoed in the hall, and an elderly priest clothed only in the black suit and stiff clerical collar walked into the room.
"Ah, I see you too are a victim of the weather," he said with a sympathetic smile. He took Vincent by the shoulder and led him into the church proper. "Come, it's warmer farther from the door."
"Thank you," Vincent murmured softly. He took a seat in one of the pews close to the alter, and looked upon the crucifix that hung above it. Memories of his somewhat Catholic upbringing, memories he had long ago laid to rest, stirred from their slumber, peeking out from the shadows of his mind. It had been years since he even set foot in a church.
"Is there anything else you need?" the priest asked kindly. Vincent met the man's warm brown eyes with his own glittering red ones, and felt the urge to lay out his burden, share the story of his sins not as a warning or an exchange of information, but for understanding.
"I…" Vincent's voice was hesitant. "I…would like…to make…confession."
The priest nodded.
"Would you like to do it here, or would you be more comfortable in a confessional?" he asked simply.
"A confessional," Vincent immediately replied. The priest nodded again, and led him to a small confessional off to the side of the alter. Vincent sat in the small dark room, if it could even be called that, with a sigh of relief; he felt uncomfortable sharing his story, even though he wanted to.
It had been a lifetime since Vincent's last confession, and so he stumbled hesitantly through the words.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."
"And how have you sinned?" the priest asked softly.
Vincent pondered the question, sought the words to describe the blood staining his hands as a Turk, his failure to save Lucrecia, or Sephiroth, or Aeris. In the end, all he could come up with was:
"I exist."
"A grievous crime indeed," the priest said wryly. "And tell me, what makes your life such a horrible sin?"
"Agony and death surround me," Vincent said slowly. "I assassinated countless innocents in my career as a Turk. I let the woman I love die; I let her beloved son fall into madness and nearly destroy everything before finally destroying himself, and I failed to prevent him from killing an angel."
"Tell me," said the priest, "do you know what today is?"
"The twenty-fifth of December."
"And what is that?"
Vincent paused, then said slowly, "Christmas."
"Yes," the priest said. "Today is when the Christ child came into the world to redeem us from our sins. Every wrong, every evil, great or small, he has taken unto himself. It is a time of new life and new hope for all men." Vincent could feel the man's smile. "Even you." He paused, letting that thought sink in, then continued. "Do you remember the Act of Contrition?"
"I believe so," Vincent said.
"Then let us say it together."
They spoke slowly, almost chanting, as Vincent called to mind words memorized a lifetime ago.
"My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart.
In choosing to do wrong, and failing to do good, I have sinned against you,
Whom I should love above all things.
I firmly intend, with your help,
To do penance,
To sin no more,
And to avoid whatever leads me to sin.
Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us.
In his name, my God, have mercy."
Vincent closed with a whispered, "Amen."
"Through the grace of God, I absolve thee of sin. Go forth and sin no more," the priest closed. They sat a moment in silence.
"What is my penance?" Vincent asked at length.
The priest thought for a moment.
"Go to the graves of those whom you failed," he said softly, "and pray. Ask them for forgiveness and understanding."
It was the easiest, heaviest burden the priest could have placed on him. How could Lucrecia, Sephiroth, or Aeris forgive him? He had wronged them so greatly.
And yet, in the sea of despair, there was a flicker of hope.
"I thank you for your time," Vincent said as the two exited the confessional.
"I was more than glad to give it," the priest said, and walked with the clawed man to the door. The winds had calmed, and Vincent would be able to make it to some sort of permanent shelter before beginning his journey.
His journey. So hopeless and so hopeful. Forgiveness seemed impossible, and yet he felt it within his grasp. It was possible. Anything was possible.
After all, it was a season of miracles.
~*~*~*~
Owari
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