A Peculiar Sort of Faith
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A/N: 10-27-07: I was re-reading Ender's Shadow again, and I couldn't help but notice… Though Bean never has any specifically stated religion, the book deals with some Christian themes and bible verses and comparisons are used over and over again. Pondering, I decided that Bean does have a sort of religion… but not a normal one, really.
Warnings: Christian themes, possible AU, spoilers for the Shadow series.
Disclaimer: I own the idea behind this fic, this fic, and any incongruence with the original stories.
Ty
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Bean was never one to believe in religion.
That didn't change the fact that he knew that when he was hiding in that toilet tank, he was trusting in something and that something wasn't himself.
That didn't change the fact that when he looked back on the event, he knew that he was praying as he raced back to try and save Poke.
Or the fact that when Sister Carlota told him that he would never have to face Achilles again, he was praising some higher power.
Or that when he was playing that final battle, he trusted that there would be someone to welcome those poor, poor, damned soldiers with open arms and forgiveness.
There were countless instances where Bean knew that he had been relying on God.
For the longest time, he could never understand why any kind and just God would have created him the way he was, forced him through what he had been through.
And finally, he learned. It came back to, as always, the Wiggins. If Bean hadn't been so small and ignored, Ender may have used him too soon, broken him like Petra had been broken. If Bean hadn't been so perceptive and analytical, then Ender would have lost. Then humanity would have lost that decisive final battle. If Bean hadn't been so smart, then Peter may not have become the leader of the world. And if Bean hadn't helped Peter, the world might have been destroyed.
Bean was God's tool, just as Ender was. As Peter was. Bean was never meant to be the prophet, the savior of humanity. It was never Bean who was meant to save God's children from destruction.
It was Ender. It was Andrew, it was Peter. Bean was the disciple, the follower. Just as Poke had sacrificed herself to save him. The stupid, stupid, sweet, kind, gentle, loving girl. He missed her, he missed her, he wanted to say I love you, I love you, I'm sorry!
Ender, Andrew, had sacrificed himself to save humanity.
Sister Carlota, who risked her life for him. She, who loved him as her own son, who loved him even when she knew that the devil's creature had touched him. She was dead, sacrificed for him. I love you, I love you, I'm sorry… mother, I'm sorry. I love you! It was never Let's Pretend.
Petra, the saint hiding in the guise of Judas. She betrayed Ender, Andrew, to save him. Offered herself up that he might not be the one crucified. Never Judas, kissing before she killed. Oh, my love, my love, I'm so sorry. So sorry that I left you, so sorry that I could never be all that you wanted. Everything you did, you did for me. I love you; I love you, always and forever.
It was Bean who followed them. Forever, and always, behind them, lifting them up, listening. No, he was no savior.
It was they who were worthy of God. It was they who were the true examples of Christ.
Andrew, Ender caring for the sheep, guiding them to the safer pastures. You knew, you knew, always you knew what was best. In the end, it was you, you understood.
Poke, the street rat, the carpenter's son (daughter) with the heart of gold. Feeding the little ones, trusting, forgiving, sacrificing. Six peanuts, wasted on a little boy not worth a bean, even when you were starving.
Sister Carlota, the mother, the protector. Always lifting up the unfortunate, the outcasts. A lifetime spent on us, the dirt of society. Always with kind words and love, always radiating warmth.
Petra, the daughter who always longed to be the son that she supposed to be, sitting with the sinners. Always there, even when I was lost. You knew, you gave me the chance to give a father's love to my children, the love I never had.
Each bearing their own cross, forever. Stumbling, tripping, refusing help with a smile, always taking on more and more and more still, he tried to help, he did, he thought, but he wasn't good at helping, he's sorry.
For the longest time, Bean did not believe in God.
And then, one day, he understood. A tool, shaped by the circumstances of his beginnings, the humble fisherman who would always be in the shadows. Each time, a change, a vow, a promise.
On the day that Pablo de Noches took him home, Bean, without even a name to call his own, swore that he would never forget the kindness done to him. Thank you, thank you, for taking in that infant found in that building, for risking what you had to be a father, to love a helpless child with no hope of his own.
On the night that he found Poke's body floating in the river, Bean vowed that he would never let someone else die if he could stop it. Thank you, thank you, I love you, you poor, poor, merciful, selfless, sweet, loving, kind girl.
On the day that Achilles killed Sister Carlota, Bean promised himself that he would no longer let his demon take away those he loved. Thank you, thank you mother, I love you, I really do, thank you, thank you for believing.
On the evening that he made his choice, Bean swore that he would break no more lives. Thank you, thank you, my sweet, loving, independent, trusting, perfect wife, I love you, I love you, forever, until the universe ends and even beyond.
It was when he gave Ender, Andrew, the idea of using the Little Doctor of the planet, Bean understood what it meant to experience a father's love and grief. O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my sons, my sons!
Bean was no saint, he was a follower, no commander.
Raised without love, he finally understood it. As Sister Carlota held him closely and cried, as Poke begged Achilles to remember his promise, as Petra's face glowed as she stared at their children, as Andrew Ender kissed their foreheads one last time with a whisper of 'salaam', as his mother cried over him, Nikolai placed an affectionate hand on his shoulder and his father recited a passage from the bible, Bean understood.
Love so powerful that he would die for it.
No, Bean had never really been one for religion, but when it came down to it, he found it undeniable.
For the first time in his life, he understood the word prodigal and the joy of being restored to the forgiving father. Father, mother, sister, brother, wife, children, friends, savior.
Let us eat, and be merry: for this my son was dead, and is alive again: he was lost, and is found.
And Bean, Julian Delphiki, beloved disciple, tool of God, cried. I love you, thank you, thank you, thank you, I love you.
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I won't beg for reviews, but feedback would be nice.