A Haven In A Heartless World

Yeah, yeah. Another fic another rarefandom. This is slash, blah blah blah, you all know the drill, right? Priest/Hicks ficcage. Takes place a few years after the movie. Title comes from a quote by Christopher Lasch - "The family is a haven in a heartless world." Characters are not mine (except one) and please do enjoy! Thanks to kittycrackers for help! Comments are awesome!


Chapter 2:

What happens now is that the Priest stays. He should leave, go back to Cathedral City, back into whatever form of retirement he's supposed to have been in all along. Where he doesn't use his skills and slinks along amongst the citizens pretending he hasn't seen what he's seen, done what he's done, or saved every last one of them from the vampires, where the normal citizens look down upon him, down upon the marks on his face that declare him a Priest meant to protect the city.

He stays. With Hicks, with Shane. Even after his wounds heal up, leaving him with several new scars, he stays. He watches the boy grow into a curious, strong, healthy eighteen month old. He helps train Hicks in the ways of the Priest's, no longer caring that such secrets are not meant to be shared. This is the only family he has left and he will do whatever he can to protect them and if that means giving away the mysteries of an impressive combat style, then so be it.

They're working with throwing knives, kind of like the ones the Priest used at the Nightshade reservation so long ago. It requires an impressive amount of concentration to get them to fly the right way and Hicks is good. He's always been good - probably would have been recruited into the Priesthood if the rest of the world hadn't remained in denial of the continued presence of the vampire menace outside of the Cities.

"Okay, now," the Priest instructs, hoping to see the three bladed pieces of metal fly to hit the target set up on the other side of the yard when his protégé releases them. Hicks closes his eyes for a split second, and suddenly the spikes are flying, but they're hovering unsteadily, and then they scream and clatter across the ground, falling short at about the halfway point. "You're getting closer. You need to concentrate more."

"How?" Hicks asks. That's what he always asks. It's never 'I can't do this' or 'But I was concentrating,' it's always 'how?' And the Priest can definitely work with that.

"Think of something that makes you strong, happy, something good," the Priest tells him. The memory he used when he first started was of Shannon, beautiful and perfect and his, back before the Priests existed for him, before they made him sacrifice his world for this new one. The first time he kissed her, the first time he got to hold his daughter. "Focus on that and you'll get it."

Hicks does as told, collects up the knives and reclaims his prior position. He thinks hard, tries to pluck a good memory out of all the bad and maybe kind of finds one. He lets the blades go, but they fall back to the ground just a few feet away.

The Priest doesn't give him time to contemplate the failed attempt. "What were you using?"

"When we rescued Lucy?"

He's not really sure why that wouldn't work, but maybe there's too many dark memories, too many fresh memories for the light to outshine the shadows right now. "Try something else, if you can."

The younger man nods. "Alright," he says, and his eyes flick over to where the Priest stands with Shane in his arms, entertaining the giggly, babbly child as he watches over Hicks' training. He smiles, picks this moment, right now. Deep breath in, slow breath out, eyes closed as he focuses on his memory and then they fly. Hard and fast, they stick into the target, scattered but still on the board and that is certainly progress.

"Excellent," Priest answers and he does not give praise easily. He doesn't ask what memory he used this time and Hicks is glad of that because he's not sure he could lie convincingly enough to fool the Priest. "Nicely done," he says, "but do it again."

Hicks repeats the move, again and again and again and again, until all three blades land within centimeters of each other at the core of the target. He's grinning when Priest calls for a stop, and his mentor's smiling, too. Looking on him with pride and respect that he's worked hard to earn.

"That's enough for today," the Priest says, clapping Hicks on the back with the hand that isn't supporting Shane. "Whatever you used, it works."

"Yeah," Hicks agrees, ruffling Shane's blond hair as he walks back to the house, matching the Priest stride for stride. "It did."


Hicks plays with Shane while the Priest throws a meager dinner together for them all. He's asking the baby to form whatever words he can, rough approximations of 'dada,' and 'no,' and a lengthy list of animals that none of them will ever see outside of books, and on and on it goes as he stumbles around on wobbly baby feet. But Hicks finds himself watching the Priest almost as much as he's watching Shane. He's kind of mystified by how much Lucy was like her father. The way she moved is the way he moves, steady and immovable, a force he could never hope to resist. Attitudes, both strong-willed, stubborn and determined as all hell. And their blue eyes - all three of them, the Priest, Lucy, Shane - the same deep, ocean blue; the color of something he's never seen before, something to rivals the endless Wasteland brown and the metallic, inhuman steel of the Cities.

Sometimes he hates that he sees so much of the Priest in his memories of Lucy, but most of the time it's like he still has a piece of her around. More than that, really, since technically he was seeing the Priest in all of the things he loved about Lucy. And he doesn't know how to feel about that realization because he's starting to think things that he's not supposed to be, that he can't be.

"Food's ready," he calls over and Hicks gathers the boy up into his arms and cross the room, taking his seat at their small table. "If it doesn't snow much tonight," the Priest says, as he passes a plate to Hicks, "we can try something more advanced with the knives tomorrow. If you'd like."

"I would like that," Hicks answers, feeding himself and Shane at the same time. The baby's getting pretty close to sleepy, but he eats contentedly - if messily - and mumbles out streams of baby babbling as Hicks tries to figure out his ever-growing internal dilemma. An uncomfortable silence has fallen between them and he can feel the Priest's eyes on him, can almost hear the questions about the way he's acting, but he makes himself look up anyway. "What?"

The Priest shakes his head. "Nothing." A pause and then, "It'll be cold tonight, I think." It's always cold at night now, though. It's the middle of winter and while the days are still considerably warm, the temperatures at night drop alarmingly fast. "We should make sure we're good on firewood."

Hicks is about to volunteer, grateful for the chance to escape, but the Priest is already ducking out the door.

"Okay, then," he sighs, pushing his unfinished plate of food away. Shane appears to be finished, too, so he quickly cleans up and goes to get the boy ready for bed. Bath time and warm clothes precede warm blankets and a short made up story. "Night night," he tells his son, who echoes him, and he drags a hand through Shane's messy hair as he falls asleep. He makes sure the stuffed bear, a costly gift that the Priest obtained in one of the Wasteland towns, is close by and then he takes his leave.

He finds the Priest dragging in a fresh load of firewood, piling it in the corner for use. "He asleep?" The older man asks, now moving to stoke the fire.

"Out like a light, as always," Hicks answers. They were both extremely grateful for the easy baby. Especially at the beginning, when they were both mourning Lucy and they didn't really know what they were doing. Now they have it down and Shane's easygoing nature is in direct contradiction to Lucy's personality, which might be a good thing, really. "I'll check out the house," he volunteers, stepping outside to do their usual sweep of the property before they turn in themselves. Everything's clear, but he double-checks the locks before he goes in, eyes scanning and ever alert. "We're good."

"Fire's steady, too," the Priest answers, getting to his feet.

They both eye the bed - the only one they have. Normally they sleep in shifts, or one of them takes the floor, but the cold temperatures have been forcing a little more cohabitation than they're strictly used to - perhaps another factor in Hicks' state of confusion.

"I can take the floor, if you're sick of sharing."

A way out, Hicks knows, that's what he's offering. The Priest is starting to get suspicious. "No. I will."

The Priest doesn't argue, just heads for the bed. "I'll wake you in the morning."

"Goodnight," Hicks echoes.


In the middle of the night, the snow starts. The snowfall makes everything seem quiet, hushed as it blankets the wasteland dirt. Almost eerie, really. The cold seeps in through the wooden walls and the thin blanket Hicks has and he finds himself shivering on the floor. Shane's room will be warm - they make sure of that - and the blanket the Priest has is a little thicker than his own, so he's the only one suffering.

"I can hear your teeth chattering from over here," the older man's voice whispers. "Get over here, already."

Hicks doesn't need to be asked twice. He gathers up his blanket - combined with the Priest's, they're pretty effective and the shared body heat certainly doesn't hurt - and crosses the room. The bed's a tight fit for two grown men, but they manage, arms and legs shifted in such a way as to keep them both in place, blankets piled accordingly. Warm, comfortable silence falls between them as Hicks starts to drift to sleep. It's so different. The short time he had with Lucy here, like this. The Priest is all hard muscle and scarred skin, sharp bones and strong body; Lucy had been soft curves and smooth skin, long hair that always smelled nice. So different, but he finds he doesn't mind the differences. Besides, love and necessity mark clear dividing lines in intentions and he has nothing to compare with Lucy's soft, gentle touches and he's never going to, either.

"What memory did you use?" The Priest wonders aloud, bringing Hicks' out of his thoughtless dreams and back to a cold, hard reality.

"Shane," he says. He's only kind of lying. Shane had been part of it. He can feel those eyes again, blue and determined and when he turns his head to look, he sees that determination and he knows he won't be able to avoid this forever. "And you."

The Priest stares at him. "Me."

"Family. Both of you. Today. That's what I picked and it worked."

"Why me?" He asks, confusion on his face even though Hicks still thinks he knows the reason why.

"Because," Hicks answers and then he moves. He knows the Priest won't react well, that there's no way he'll want this, too - as much as the older man rebelled against the ruling Clergy, he won't go this far - but Hicks has to get it out. It doesn't require much given their proximity, but he kisses the Priest.


For a second, he lets it happen.

He kisses back, revels in the feeling of it, lips on lips and his body's automatically moving into the action.

But it's just for a second.

Then he's pushing away, a hand on Hicks' chest to keep him down when he tries to follow after. "I can't. You know I can't," he says, frowning down at the younger man. "I made a vow."

The others made the same vow, he knows, as all of the Priests and Priestesses had to. But his brothers and sisters in the Order were not all so dedicated to it. Many of them were involved, either amongst themselves or with civilians. It would hardly be a new occurrence if he were to break the vow, but with all he's already done in going against the Monsignors in charge in Cathedral City, there are only so many ties that he's willing to sever. While he's through with their whole 'To go against the Church is to go against God,' philosophy, he's not yet sure where he's drawing the line with this.

After all, unless the Clergy have recruited new members, he is the last of the Order.

Hicks lets out a frustrated sigh and rolls off the bed and to his feet in a steady motion. He makes for the door, tossing a biting, "I know," over his shoulder as he goes. The blankets do nothing to block the chill of the snowy wind that breaks into the house in the time it takes him to get outside. The door closes sharply behind him - not enough to wake Shane, though - and then the Priest is moving.

"Oh, sure," he mumbles to himself as he follows the younger man outside. "Not like it's freezing outside or anything. Brilliant idea."

He's pretty immune to the cold. Being a Priest has made him highly tolerant of a lot of extremes - cold, hot, pain, loss - but it's chilly tonight even by his standards, the icy wind biting through his clothes. He finds Hicks pacing on the porch, arms curled around himself for some semblance of warmth.

"Hicks."


He doesn't know what he was expecting. He doesn't even know why he did it.

For a second, he'd thought that the Priest returned his feelings - whatever those feelings are, he's still not sure of that - but that second had been abruptly followed by rejection. But then 'can't' and 'don't want to' are two very different things and he's not sure how to reconcile those together, either.

He's more confused than ever, angry and hurt at being turned down.

"What?"

"Look," the Priest says, standing next to him. Close, the kind of close that makes Hicks' confusion even worse because if he really didn't want this, then he'd give some distance. "I'm sorry. But I..."

"Made a vow. Celibacy. So you said," Hicks answers. "Whatever. Not to mention the Church isn't fond of this when Priests aren't involved. I guess us heathens out here in the Wastelands missed that lesson."

Getting involved with another man is not a tremendously common situation, but it's not unheard of, either. Not in the Wastelands, anyway. Out here, you mind your own business and no one much cares what you get up to or who you get up to it with. The Cities are different. He knows that, but sometimes he forgets that the Priest spent so much time there and he's not sure what to think about that. What the Priest thinks about their rules inside the walls.

But then there's a hand on his shoulder, settled gently there. "Can we talk about this is the morning?" He asks. "It's late and it's cold and you should come inside." The sound of Shane crying gets both of their attentions and the argument dies right there.

"Fine," Hicks caves, letting the Priest nudge him back into their home. "That's fine."

"Good. Go back to bed. I'll get Shane back to sleep."

He goes, buries himself against the wall and forces himself not to move. Shane quiets, eventually and Priest returns to their bed, crawling in behind him. He studiously ignores the arm that falls over his side - there's nowhere else for it to go, after all - and even though he's still reeling with confused emotions, he eventually falls asleep.