A/N This story was inspired by the spoilers for the next episode so if you want to be completely spoiler free you might want to skip this one.
There were times when you just need an impartial ear. Someone, who will listen. Someone, uninvested in the situation and sometimes even in you. If, you are lucky, they will listen with compassion and understanding void of judgement. That was how Sharon came to find herself kneeling in the confessional of her church. She wasn't exactly seeking absolution. She was struggling, trying to understand the bigger picture, the divine plan. She had been taught that forgiveness should be readily given, holding onto anger and hate damaged you more than whomever it was directed toward. All that negativity slowly ate away at you from the inside out. For the majority of her adult life, she had done her best to look for the good in people, trust that there was a purpose to all things and forgive. Circumstances and life didn't always make it easy but she prayed and had faith. Faith in herself, in those she loved and yes, even in God. The world was too miraculous to all be a happy accident.
She just needed to talk, unburden her soul and receive some compassionate reassurance that her faith was not a futile act. She needed her priest to be understanding and free from judgement. Unfortunately, she had not received the spiritual comfort she needed.
The priest had recognized her voice and called her by name. He encouraged her to attend Mass more regularly but seemed to understand the uncertainty of her profession. He sounded disappointed when he mentioned her divorce. She had sought his counsel during the early years of her marriage when things had begun to unravel. He had been kind and patient then. Now his voice rang with a disapproving tone. Divorced. She could see the silhouette of his profile shake his head slowly disapprovingly as he spoke. Marriage was a sacrament he said. She had taken a vow, signed a covenant with God. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, til death did they part. Divorce was not an option.
She had not come for this. This was adding to, not elevating the oppressive weight she felt she was being crushed under. She had sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had come hoping to find a haven from the evil of the world. An evil that was threatening to consume any hope of light like a black hole swallowing all that dared to get too close.
As the priest rambled on about the sanctity of marriage, Sharon quietly picked up her handbag and stood. She thought about telling the priest goodbye. She thought about telling the priest a lot of things but her surroundings dictated her response.
After stepping out of the confessional, she didn't bother fishing her glasses out of her bag. She took a moment to admire the ornate vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows before sighing deeply and walking toward the exit.
She was lost in thought, eyes seeming to intensely scrutinize the floor as she walked slowly down the carpeted aisle. Glancing up, she noticed the figure leaning against a column at the end of the aisle. She could tell he was well dressed. He appeared to be older but without her glasses, at this distance, details were hard to make out.
The nagging thoughts of hate crimes and Dwight Darnell pulled her back in. She couldn't shake the image of Chief Taylor. The sounds and smells of the courtroom invaded her senses as though she were standing there rather than in a serene house of God. She blinked her eyes taking deep slow breathes willing her mind to banish these waking nightmares. How many others would be injured or killed?
As she closed the distance, he turned stopping her in her tracks.
"How?" Was all she could manage to get out. Her throat had been dry and tight making it almost painful to speak.
He had merely shrugged and stepped away from the column that had supported him. He approached her slowly, almost cautiously.
Tears that pooled threatening to fall were held at bay by sheer force of will. He stopped less than an arm's length away. If she wanted to, she could easily reach out and touch him. His expression was soft, concerned. His arms hung at his sides. He made no move to touch her or compel her to respond in any particular way. He was simply there. Waiting.
She looked at the floor slowly shaking her head. She hated being handled. Anyone else and she would have railed against them. But here, now, she didn't have the strength nor the desire. Her palms pressed firmly flush against his chest, then slid around him as she stepped close.
His arms encircled her. She pressed her face into his neck.
His voice rumbled softly in her ear when he whispered, "did you find what you needed?"
She had come here to this holy place seeking solace, comfort, a reaffirmation of faith. This place, this house of God, had come up lacking. Lacking until now, until this very instance. How had he known where to find her? How did he know?
She shook her head against his shoulder. "No," she had whispered.
He tightened his hold.
"Not until this moment." She was barely able to breathe the words as the realization, an epiphany if you will, a miraculous understanding took hold of her. She almost laughed at the irony of it all.
Mysterious ways. She had prayed, even gone in search of what she thought she needed. Only to discover that it had always been with her, patiently waiting. Only now, in the safety and comfort of his embrace was her faith restored and her burden lessened.
She prayed again, only this time instead of guidance and fortitude, she gave thanks.
The End
A/N Thank for reading. I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. I hope that it makes sense. I appreciate thoughts, comments and feedback.