One half of me is yours, the other half yours,
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
And so all yours.
-The Merchant of Venice, III ii 1379-81
Father Goodman had been delighted to receive Ethan when the younger man approached him at the end of morning prayers, particularly so when he revealed he came at the instructions of Miss Vanessa Ives. In fact, he had beamed from ear to ear, and when Ethan inquired as to his ability to perform their marriage the little old man had risen his hands to the heavens in thanks. Normally, Ethan and Vanessa would have been required to wait several weeks while their engagement was made known to the public, but evidently Vanessa had confided something of her troubles in the little priest as he made enthusiastic exception for them.
Ethan had not realized the extent of his exhaustion until the relief brought by the priest's words left his body sagging tiredly in the pew. Father Goodman then displayed even more of his generosity, welcoming Ethan back into his private study to rest and offering him a fresh shirt.
"No proper lady, even our Miss Ives, would be willing to stand up with you looking like that," he quipped good-naturedly, eyeing the dried bloodstains on Ethan's shirt.
The clean garment was a little too tight and much too white for his taste, but Ethan took it gratefully. Father Goodman left him to nap on his sofa until noon, and when he awoke Ethan was greeted by a platter of tea and sandwiches.
He returned to the nave to wait for news from Sir Malcolm, and while he did he prayed continuously. He prayed in every language he knew: Latin, Greek, a smattering of Aramaic – even a little Spanish, for what it was worth. He said the Lord's Prayer over and over, as well as the Apostle's Creed. He murmured Hail Marys by the dozen, hoping against all hope that the Blessed Mother would smile upon his marriage. He prayed to St. Jude that Vanessa might be spared. He said every prayer he could think of, and then he said them again for good measure.
But prayer is a meditative task, and Ethan's mind began to wander after a fashion. He would be a good husband, of that he was sure. He was already absolutely, unequivocally devoted to Vanessa, and he would do whatever it took to bring her peace and stability. But it was more than that.
Ethan had loved before, and often. He was the type of man who loved easily and honestly. For a long time, he clung to that love as a means of keeping himself human. Surely, he had thought, being able to love as readily and all-consumingly as he knew himself capable of meant he wasn't a monster or a complete animal. The wolf didn't understand love, just lust and rage and unadulterated want, and Ethan needed to think there was some part of himself separate from the beast.
That had been the reason he had cleaved so desperately to Brona. She had been a lovely girl, and selfishly he had tried to find his redemption in her. He had loved her, that hadn't been a lie, and he had wanted to save her. But he had loved the idea of her more than the woman herself. Brona had been kind and lively and generous, and she knew what it was to lead a hard life. He had respected her, but at the same time he had used her.
Brona had been human in the basest of ways. She was flawed and fragile and mortal in such a simple, humble fashion, just as nature had intended. She knew pain, but not darkness, not as Ethan had. Foolishly, desperately, he had thought loving her would help he attain the lost factor of his humanity consumed by the wolf. And perhaps he had found some of it in Brona after all. For what it was worth, he had felt for her and mourned her passing, and easing her pain and showing her love, both emotionally and physically, had brought the both of them peace. Ethan did not regret that and was endlessly glad for the time they had had, but if he were honest – and in church, one must always be – he knew he would not, could not have built a life with poor Brona Croft.
It was different with Vanessa. Yes, he wanted to care for her and keep her safe as he had with Brona, and still others before her, but what he felt for Vanessa was altogether deeper and more overwhelming. It wasn't just because she knew a pain and a suffering so similar to his own. It wasn't just how ardently she needed him and turned to him for comfort and protection. It wasn't just how obviously they were made to complement each other: spiritually, intellectually, emotionally, dear God, even physically.
It was something much deeper, much more primal. The very core of him recognized their fearful, exquisite symmetry, and inherently he knew she felt the same. He had seen it in her eyes when she presented him with the lovers' card so many months before and each time she had looked at him since.
He had wanted her the first time he laid eyes on her. He had loved her the moment she had first told him she was with him. It was a fact that brought him no undo shame, that his heart had called out for her while he had lain with another, that he had not been completely true to her or Brona or anyone else, but Ethan had had his reasons. God help her, for as inhumanly strong as Vanessa was, she was precariously breakable. She understood the metaphysical world around them much more completely than he did, and Ethan knew the struggle she waged within herself was terribly consuming. His own certainly was. Vanessa lived much more within her own world than he did, and though he perceived a mirror of his own feelings in her, he had also known instinctively that he should wait for her to meet him on her own terms.
But she hadn't. Not completely. They moved in circles around each other, closer and closer all the time but still inarguably separate. It had been enough for Ethan to know that she did feel for him, to see that given time they would make their way to one another, but time was something they, tragically, did not have. It pained him to push her, and he hated to think that he was in any way coercing Vanessa into being with him, but he would rather have her protected and slightly unsure of his intentions than a comfortable sitting duck, not when he had it in his power to keep her safe.
He would make it up to her somehow, some way. He would be good to her as he knew she would be good to him. As isolated as she always was, Ethan was utterly, completely drawn to her, and he would do whatever it took to keep her by his side. He would follow her to hell and back if that's what it took, like some false Orpheus searching for his bride.
Perhaps this was destiny, whatever Vanessa might claim she believed. Ethan prayed to God that it was so, that the road they were to walk together had only just begun.
He kneeled at the stone floor before the altar for three hours before a shuffling to his left alerted Ethan to another's presence. He crossed himself and looked up to see not the smiling visage of Father Goodman as he expected but a rumpled and very disgruntled Dr. Victor Frankenstein. The young man stared down at him, arms crossed over his chest and his mouth pulled to the side. Ethan waited for him to say something, but it appeared the doctor was not so inclined.
Ethan raised both his arms and his brows expectantly. "Well?"
Frankenstein looked down at him unblinkingly. "I hope you appreciate all I've been made to go through today."
Ethan huffed and rose stiffly from the church floor. He leaned back, stretching the muscles of his back as best his shirt would allow. "Yeah, Vic, things have been so rough for you lately."
"Well they have," Frankenstein snapped. "And you've no idea what it was like watching that old man smarm his way through the magistrate's office. And don't call me that."
Ethan made his way to the nearest pew and eased himself down, his joints still aching. Frankenstein pivoted but made no further effort to move, forcing Ethan to look up at him. "I take it you got the license, then."
Frankenstein snorted. "And how. I've never seen Sir Malcolm more in his element. He chatted up every person in sight. The magistrate himself near about swooned. It was both fascinating and somewhat appalling. How easily it is to compel government officials into doing one's biding, that is. Though, I suppose it does help to have the funds to back one up."
Ethan ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the polished wood. That was one obstacle out of the way, at least. "Is there a plan we're working off of?"
"Oh yes. Sir Malcolm sent me from the magistrate's to let you know to be prepared. He's gone to collect Miss Ives and Sembene. They should be here within the hour."
Ethan allowed his shoulders to relax. He rested his elbows on his knees and let his head fall forward, his hair swaying about his eyes. They would meet the sundown deadline after all. It was good news, and he felt significantly relieved. Even more so with the knowledge that he would soon be reunited with Vanessa; he found himself growing increasingly anxious the longer he went without seeing her.
Frankenstein's feet shuffled again, and Ethan raised his head to see the doctor purse his lips once more. Ethan didn't want to ask, but he knew he should. "Something you want to share, Doctor?"
The younger man's arms fell to his sides and he made an odd stepping movement with his right foot. "You know this is all rather ridiculous, don't you?"
Ethan sat up somewhat, his hands pressing down on his thighs. "You were paying attention this morning, weren't you?"
Frankenstein huffed exasperatedly. "Yes, I understand that you and Miss Ives are in grave danger. I understand that you think these witches are on some eternal quest after you both."
"We don't think, Victor, we know. And so do you, when you get down to it."
"Alright, fine. Yes. I believe it, too. And I want you two to be safe as much as anyone. But is all this really necessary?"
Ethan sighed and attempted to stretch his arms but found his borrowed shirt too restrictive. "You're so supercilious about logic. Everything has to happen in such a way that you can rationalize it, or you dismiss it as fantasy. Let me try to explain this in a way that you'll be able to understand.
"This doesn't make sense. None of it. At all. It doesn't make sense to Vanessa that she's suffered with this all these years, that she's been plagued by powers and visions and torment. But she still has. It doesn't make sense to me that I've gone through the things I have and dealt with my share of curses. But this, marrying each other, makes logical sense to us. You may not understand it completely, but believe me when I tell you that we consider this a very valid course of action. She and I are in perfect agreement. We want to do this."
The other man appeared unphased. "I do see that you and Miss Ives, and even Sir Malcolm and Sembene, think this the best way to proceed, and I do acknowledge the rationale behind it. Given what I know about the...satanic nature of Miss Ives' situation and the Christian myths regarding the powers of God over those of the Devil, this is a very reasonable solution. That being said, I just...wonder."
He moved closer to the pew to stand beside the still sitting Ethan. "I know both of you to have profound faith. It does seem likely that this type of ritual would counteract the workings of the Devil, that much I will admit is true. But given how much credence you and Miss Ives set by superstitions, do you not think this solution rather permanent?"
His sentiments were both uncharacteristically humble and moderately offensive. Yet, they were perhaps the nicest things Frankenstein had ever said to Ethan. He could not help but feel flattered and mildly irritated.
"You're not much of a believer in marriage, are you, Doc?"
Frankenstein's eyes narrowed briefly before he turned and sat beside the older man. "I wouldn't necessarily say that."
Ethan sat back and turned to angle himself toward Frankenstein. "Well, then, I know that you get awkward when it comes to matters of women. Emotional matters."
Frankenstein squirmed. "No."
"Alright, it's the idea of men and women together then, isn't it?"
"I have no idea what you could possibly mean by that. I've witnessed men and women interacting together on an almost daily basis. For example, this morning I was strong-armed into watching you talk your fiancée into entering into this farcical engagement."
He was attempting to push Ethan's buttons, and Ethan knew it, but he was too content rolling the word 'fiancée' around in is mind to tale offence. "You know exactly what I meant."
Frankenstein shifted to sit, incredibly, even more stiffly. "Oh, alright. I admit, I am not terribly...comfortable discussing or devoting much thought to...relations between men and women. As it were, I prefer the impartiality and clinical distance required with scientific considerations, as you are well aware. And yes, part of my reservations about what you are about to do stem from my...unease at the changing nature of the relationship between the two of you. I have never known a couple before they were married. I've never known a couple before they were a couple. This is new territory for me, and I am unsure as to how to react.
"But that isn't entirely what I meant. I have no ill regard for you or Miss Ives, you must know that. You have both proven yourselves time again to be utterly decent, especially to me. You've no idea how I appreciate it. But that being said, you have both led rather solitary lives without many lengthy attachments, if you understand my meaning. You have demonstrated how dedicated a man you can be, but we are not speaking of a months-long liaison. Assuming this ceremony does protect Miss Ives from the witches and we do find some way to defeat them and put this supposed devil off her for good, you will still have devoted a lifetime to her, even after she no longer needs your protection. I cannot help but wonder if her appeal to you will not wane.
"And as for Miss Ives, apart from that unfortunate incident last year, and of course this business of late, she has not demonstrated a need or willingness to seek out others for help, let alone companionship. She is kind, to be sure, but has always seemed content to make her own way. I must confess, I have never particularly thought of her as the marrying kind."
Had he been any other man or said it any other way, the doctor might have found himself on the receiving end of Ethan's fist. But Ethan could not bring himself to feel any anger; if anything, he was only mildly frustrated by Frankenstein's worrying. In many ways, the other man was still a boy unwilling to see his friends parted or irrevocably changed. It was nice, in a way, to know someone was concerned for his happiness, and Vanessa's as well.
He huffed out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair again before turning back to Frankenstein. "There's a lot about Vanessa and me that you don't know. About our pasts, and about how it is between us. We share much that you don't know about, and we're both very aware of where we stand.
"It's like we're two sides of the same coin, to use the old phrase. Each side is different, just as we are, but we're irreversibly melded together and so create a single, whole entity. I don't expect that to mean much to you, but it's the best I can think of to describe why we're willing to do this beyond basic necessity."
Frankenstein was quiet and only stared at Ethan in response, but the older man could see the gears whirling in his scrawny head and knew he could at least make something of what he had said. Ethan raised one corner of his mouth in a half smile.
"Would you think me foolish if I told you I feel married to her already?"
Frankenstein rolled his eyes. "Yes."
Ethan scowled. "Go sit somewhere else."
The doctor shook his head. "You know, I'm certain it's a mortal sin to be spiteful in a church."
"Only maliciously so," came a voice from over Ethan's left shoulder, causing him to jump to his feet and spin around. It was not often someone managed to sneak up on him. But to his relief, it was only Father Goodman, who smiled brightly and held up a thick, leather-bound tome. "I've pulled out my favorite Bible for the occasion. Blessed by Pope Leo himself."
Ethan clasped his hands in front of his waist. "We're happy to have it, Father."
"You're welcome, my son," he nodded before turning to the doctor. "And will this young man be standing up with you?"
"Yes," Ethan replied unhesitantly. Who else did he have?
For his part, Frankenstein's face turned a deep pink all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked down at the floored and seemed unable to speak.
The priest nodded happily. "Very good, very good. Now, do we have any idea as to when to expect the bride? It would not do to be caught in the middle of the ceremony when my parishioners begin arriving for evening prayers."
Ethan took his pocket watch out from his trousers and flicked it open, carefully ignoring the engraving as he checked the time. They had a little less than two hours before the sun set. "Dr. Frankenstein here tells me we can expect them at any time."
No sooner had he said the words than the church door creaked open and Sembene lithely slid in, pulling the door more fully open to reveal Sir Malcolm, still in his suit from the night before, and Vanessa. Father Goodman gave a soft, "Oh!" before moving to stand behind Ethan, giving him a clear view of the three newcomers.
They did not move slowly, gracefully, as a man walking a young woman down the aisle should; Sir Malcolm practically marched Vanessa forward as she hurried to keep up, and Sembene trailed closely in their wake. But as soon as her eyes met Ethan's her face glowed, and Ethan felt a smile slide unto his own face. Her hair was tied in an elegant knot atop her head. Deep blue skirts swished beneath her pale emerald coat. No black. His grin widened.
When at first the two groups converged no one said a word. Sir Malcolm reached in his breast pocket a pulled forth a piece of thick, fine-looking paper and an equally impressive pen.
"Best to get all the formalities out of the way," he said, offering the pen to Father Goodman. As he took it eagerly, Vanessa slipped her hand into Ethan's much larger one. Her gloveless fingers were still chilled from the carriage ride. He squeezed them gently, and she returned his firm grip.
What followed was an awkward shuffling as the priest, the groom, and the bride leaned over the front pew to sign the marriage license against the wooden seat. Ethan kept Vanessa's hand in his as he signed, and when she reluctantly released his to provide her own final signature, she paused at the last 's,' leaving a small blot of ink to punctuate her name.
"I suppose this is the last time I shall sign that name," she wondered quietly, and Ethan couldn't tell if he, Sir Malcolm, or Father Goodman looked more thrilled at the prospect. Frankenstein watched the scene with wide eyes, and Sembene, remarkably, observed them all with a soft expression.
She straightened up, entwining her fingers with Ethan's once more. Sir Malcolm scooped up the license, folded it neatly, and returned it to his pocket, patting it twice for good measure. "I will return myself this in the morning," he said proudly before looking to the priest to indicate that he should proceed.
Father Goodman turned to the young couple. "Are we ready?"
Vanessa moved her hand up the inside of Ethan's arm to place it at the crook of his elbow; he nodded wordlessly. The priest looked between the two of them once more and led them to the altar. Sir Malcolm followed, standing a few feet behind them. Frankenstein moved to stand at Ethan's right, and, to the groom's bemused delight, Sembene took the place beside Vanessa. Father Goodman opened his Bible and began to speak.
The ceremony was essentially a recitation of the traditional Catholic prayers and vows. Ethan didn't mind, for it was easy enough to follow along. Admittedly, he spent as much time listening to the priest as he did looking down at Vanessa. She was the epitome of serenity, so much more like the confident woman who had approached him months beforehand than the weeping, trembling girl he had held that morning. With any luck, he would be seeing much more of this poised, balanced Vanessa in the near future.
When his time came, Ethan repeated his vows after the priest; Vanessa followed suit shortly thereafter. Father Goodman called for the rings to bless, and much to Ethan's surprise Sembene stepped forward, placing two thick bands made of a metal Ethan did not recognize with symbolic engravings he did not comprehend atop the open Bible.
"From my home country," he said to Ethan and Vanessa in turn. "They will bring you both blessings." Vanessa smiled at him appreciatively, and Ethan nodded at him with gratitude as the other man moved to stand beside the bride once more.
The smaller of the two rings was still a little too large for Vanessa's matchstick finger, but Ethan was confident that once they had the situation with the nightcomers under control and she gained back the much-needed weight she had lost in her constant anxiety it would fit beautifully. Her hands were soft and steady as she slid his into place. He watched her face as she did so, so peaceful and lovely. The sun had moved low enough in the sky to shine in through the stained glass window of St. George and the dragon behind Vanessa, creating a kaleidoscope of colors around her head in an odd, variegated halo. She was far from an angel – not that Ethan really expected or wanted her to be – but she was not the darkling she so feared she was becoming, either.
Father Goodman said one final prayer and made the sign of the cross over the two. Vanessa placed her ring-clad hand over the one holding hers on his arm as the priest pronounced them man and wife.
It was not entirely respectable of him, Ethan knew, but he thoroughly did not care; he placed one hand flat against his wife's cheek and bent down to press a light, chaste kiss to her lips. They were soft but resolute beneath his. He pulled back slightly and ran his thumb along her cheekbone, ignoring Frankenstein's uncomfortable cough as he watched her eyes. They sparkled in the iridescent light.
But then a deafening, earsplitting shrieking filled the air, seemingly from nowhere. The ground shook beneath their feet, rocking the church. Father Goodman fell to his knees. Ethan pulled Vanessa flush against him, bending over slightly to protect her in the event debris should start falling. Her fingers clutched at his already snug shirt. He could feel her holding her breath as she stared up into the church's rafters.
Just as quickly as it began, the inhuman screeching and rumbling ceased. Sir Malcolm rose from his crouch beside the pews, and Frankenstein and Sembene stepped onto the altar to pull the good father to his feet. Ethan stood up straighter but kept his arms securely around Vanessa as she released a shaking sigh.
"They know," she whispered, quietly but still loud enough for the others to hear. "Already, they know."
"And we shall be prepared," Sir Malcolm said determinedly behind them.
Ethan studied the angle of the light streaming in from the great windows. "We haven't got much time."
"I would suggest you not delay in consummating the union," Father Goodman advised as he righted his askew robes.
Had the situation been any less dire than it already was, it would have been a highly embarrassing moment, but Ethan, and Vanessa too, it seemed, saw the wisdom in his words. The less irreversible their bond, the safer they would be.
Vanessa moved out of Ethan's arms but left her hand securely in his as she looked up at the old priest. "Thank you, Father," she said with a sad smile. "For all you have done." Ethan murmured his agreement.
Father Goodman gave them a tired smile of his own as he placed a wizened hand against each of their heads. "Bless you, children. Go now in peace. May you walk in the light of Our Lord's grace."
Vanessa bowed her head at his words, and Ethan gave her hand a squeeze. The priest crossed them one final time before they turned away
"Quickly now," Sir Malcolm instructed them, gesturing that they follow him back up the aisle. Frankenstein and Sembene were already making their way to the church door.
Ethan and Vanessa followed Sir Malcolm wordlessly. On the stone steps of the church, Ethan reluctantly relinquished her hand to shut the wooden door behind them. As it drew to a close, Father Goodman, still standing at the altar, raised his hand in a solemn farewell.
Fun Fact: I've forgotten the name of the priest from the season one finale – if he had one to begin with – so I've taken the liberty of naming him after the lovely actor who played him, Mr. Henry Goodman. Now, bear with me. The next chapter is entirely different than anything I've tried before, so I make no promises as to its quality or timeliness. It might take more than a week, which may actually work in all our favors as 2x07 looks to be especially inspirational. Keep an eye out, too, because unless I completely chicken out the rating is going to go up.
A special thank you to Tiana of fuckyeahvanessaethan over at Tumblr for her thoughtful recommendation. It is much appreciated.