Supernatural

By: Vanacorien

Duo slowly made the left turn that would take him onto West Saratoga Street and end his hell bent journey. At some where in the neighbor hood of 5:30 in the morning, he had finally convinced him self to stop and rest before he killed some one, or him self. He had pulled off the exit to Bowie, a quiet little strip of buildings and new town houses an hour and a half away from Baltimore. There he had sequestered a hotel room from a pretty young brunet who had given it to him with twenty percent off due to his fake military I.D. (and some light flirting).

He had taken a few precious minuets to secure the room, pouring salt along the windows and doorways as well as hanging his 'protection bag' (a gift from Quatre) from the center of his head board. He had then collapsed into and ungraceful heap onto the cheap hotel bed and slept like the dead, with one hand tucked under the pillow loosely grasping his bowie knife as he slept.

Now, awake for the most part and lacking the look (and smell) of three day old road kill Duo pulled into the parking lot of St. Alphonsus Cathedral. For a moment he just stood out side, admiring the look of the sun on old warm red bricks. He remembered days when they all used to just sit out here and soak up the sun. When they would just talk and laugh for hours, even when they should have been doing other duties. He closed his eyes as if to recapture those moments and for a second, he thought he almost grasped them again.

A car alarm blared to life on the street across from him screaming it's warning cry as the punks who had tried to steel it dropped their tool and ran. Duo watched them go and shook his head the feeling of nostalgia lost in the present. He sighed into his collar and headed for the grey concrete steps to the heavy wooden doors.

As he stepped through the doors the scents of frankincense and wax assailed his nose and he sneezed. It had been ages sense he'd been in a church particularly this one. He cast his eyes about remembering all the nooks and crannies, looking over the statues that he remembered from his boy hood and the ones that had been added sense it's absence.

They had finally fixed the statue of St. Michael that had sat near the confessional. For the longest time parishioners had accidentally been banging the doors on the poor saint and it had come to the point that the statue had begun to chip and crack. One Sunday, during mass, a child had gotten bored and begun to play with the door and with one hearty swing had managed to break off half of his shin. Needless to say the child's parents had been quit embarrassed by the whole thing and had offered to pay for repairs. But father had just shaken it off and said that it would serve as a lesson to other children. That succumbing to boredom could not only get you in trouble but cripple saints as well.

Duo smiled a small smile as he looked at the repaired statue, now standing a good three feet away from the confessional as if to say that at least he had learned his lesson. Duo continued his perusal of the cathedral noticing the windows that needed repairs, and the pews that needed more polish. Slowly he worked his way up to the alter place, and knelt before the crucifix crossing him self before he sat in one of the first pews.

He sat there with is head bowed in thought for few moments until he heard the quiet tap of heels on the cold marble floor. He looked up but did not turn as the sound became closer and then stopped. Duo waited a moment breath stopped in his throat then, tentatively a voice called to him. "Mr. Maxwell?" He looked up to see a nun standing not more than three pews behind him.

Her face was aged, but not in a dramatic way. There were slight lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes and creases stretched in fine lines across her brow where her habit allowed it to show. She was of average height and build at least of what you could tell beneath the black robes. Duo smiled and stood noting the puzzled look she gave him as she took in his clothing. He walked toward her with careful steps knowing how loudly the room echoed to the slightest noise. He held out his hand giving a small smile. "Hello, you must be Sister Augustine, yes I'm Mr. Maxwell thou I prefer you call me Duo."

Sister Augustine nodded a small smile of her own coming to her face as she took his hand and shook it gently. "Yes, that's right. You look exactly as she said you would, though I didn't know you were coming from the seminary to visit. I would have had Monsignor Bastress greet you." Duo released the good sister's hand and tucked it into his pocket so that he could avoid fiddling with the cross around his neck. He didn't want to disappoint the good sister but Duo hadn't even stepped foot in the seminary, despite what the Catholic Church had paid for.

Duo waved a hand in dismissal. "It's all right. This trip was actually very short notice and I didn't want to inconvenience any one. Though if you don't mind there was some one I'd like to speak with." Her smile saddened slightly and she nodded, turning from the alter she began for one of the many side doors leading like portals in a maze from one part of the cathedral to the next. As Duo followed he noticed the small changes as they passed from the main cathedral to the rectory, and then to the convent's section of the old house of god.

They passed the kitchen and the back steps leading to one of the small gardens kept by the convent on their way up the back stairs to the individual sleeping quarters. Duo's face formed a frown and as though expecting his question Sister Augustine said. "She's been confined to her bed for some time now. The doctors don't want her to under take any form of stress, and so she only comes down at meal times and for masses. We've had to slow those as well. The walk, takes a lot out of her these days."

Duo nodded, though he knew she couldn't see it and looked to the various paintings on the walls as he passed by his mind trapped in thought. "How much longer do the doctors think?" Was all he asked, and in truth he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He didn't really want to know, but it seemed odd to just let the conversation die. She didn't answer right away, and for a moment Duo hoped she hadn't heard him. Then she quietly said. "No more than six more months at the least. Three, if she stops eating again."

Duo pursed his lips as his thoughts turned grim. As he reached the top of the stairs he thanked Sister Augustine for her help and asked that he be allowed to spend some time alone with her. She nodded and turned to head back down the stairs, but paused on the second step down and turned to look at him once more. Her face held sadness, but not pity, only a seeming longing.

For a moment he was puzzled by her expression and then she spoke. "You know Mr., Duo." She corrected her self. "Before the Reverend Mother became ill, I've been hearing stories, of a rebellious long haired boy with a Botticelli(A/n) smile and nearly unheard of compassion for a good few years. I still sense that compassion, but I wish I could have met you before the death of that smile. I have always liked Botticelli."

Duo watched her turn then quickly and walk briskly down the stairs as if to escape her own words. He looked after her for a moment longer. Then gave a small dark chuckle. "Believe me good Sister." He said quietly. "I wish you could have to."

As Duo knocked on the last door in the long gallery of rooms he noticed the thick medicinal smell surrounding the last stretch of hallway. He listened to see if any one had responded to his knock and when no one had he cautiously reached for the knob and slowly opened the door.

He entered slowly into the handsomely furnished sitting room, noticing the small tells that said the woman who called this place home had not been about in a while. A light coating of dust covered thick bound leather books that had been polished and oiled throughout the years to prevent cracking and mold. The rich mahogany desk that sat in the room's center had once been a tidy place for work and study. It was now obviously a cache for various medical equipment, such as medications and even bags of I.V. fluid.

He shook his head at the drastic change in a place that had almost been a second home to him. As he turned away from one of the many book shelves lining the walls, a small slender book practically wedged in between the thick tomes that surrounded it caught his eye. Lightly he walked over to the shelf and pulled the book slowly from its cranny. Flipping it so that he could read the cover, a small smile broke onto his face as he recognized one of the first books she had ever gotten him.

It was a small children's book, meant for beginning readers entitled "Is you're Momma a Llama?"(a/n) He chuckled to himself as he opened the old pages idly flipping through the book looking at the illustrations. As he finished flipping he sighed and let the book rest against his chest for a moment thinking again about better days. Of days when this sitting room would have been clean enough the see your self reflected In the wood paneling , of days when the lights would be on and some one would be sitting at that big old mahogany monstrosity scowling at him for some other trouble he had caused or been involved in.

He reached to place the book back upon the shelf when a tired voice from behind him startled him from his thoughts. "I could read it to you, you know." He whirled around, focusing on the sound coming from the door way. What he saw made his breath still.

She stood, as tall as her body could stand , seemingly leaning like a house that has lost it's support over the years and was on the verge of collapse. She had herself propped against the door jamb a worn wooden cane clutched in one gnarled hand the other pulling a shawl across thin narrow shoulders despite the heat of the day. She wore a white dressing gown, a night gown, and her hair which had once shown a bright straw gold (whenever Duo could get the habit off) had now faded into a snowy white and was braided loosely and draped over one shoulder.

Duo gaped for a moment at the vision before him. Then without uttering a sound slowly walked to her and handed her the book. She smiled slightly and reached out a fragile hand to take it from him, then turned slowly shuffling back into her room. "Let's read this in here. They've managed to clutter my desk with all manner of useless and uncomfortable things." Duo smiled at her back and slowly fallowed Mother inside closing the door part way as she sat down slowly on the brass bed groaning with the springs as she settled onto it.

Duo frowned at the groan of both bed and body and came to sit at her feet like he used to as a child. "You shouldn't have gotten up if it hurts to sit back down Sister Helen." She gave him a snort as she settled herself more firmly onto the bed lifting her feet off the floor a bit before fumbling on the bed side table for a moment. "Well, I couldn't wait for you all day, and I don't have the breath to yell."

As if to punctuate her words she gave a small cough. Finally she found what she was looking for and a slightly breathless "Aha!" Issued from her mouth. She set the book down for a moment and opened the arms of her glasses, the lenses thick on the wire frames that seemed to have bent by bearing their weight. As she perched them on the tip of her nose Duo couldn't help but giggle at the look they gave her, of and old school marm or someone's' stern aunt.

Knowing exactly the reason for Duo's laughter Sister Helen cast a glance at Duo over the tops of those glasses and said in her best teaching voice. "Is there a problem Mr. Maxwell?" Duo nodded looking directly into her eyes and suddenly the smile was gone. "Yes," he said quietly. "I was just wondering. Where all the years have gone." She stilled in her task of opening the small book and looked him in the eye for a moment. Then she smiled, a small Mona Lisa smile and said. "Wherever they went, they aren't ours to hold any more. All we can do is try to remember as best we can."

Duo nodded slightly. Not sure she had understood what he had meant but unwilling to press the question. Slowly she began to read to him. The very first book she had gotten for him when he had been a boy of eight, and she a woman of forty-five. It began as it always had. "Is your momma a llama, I asked my friend Dave." As she read Duo relaxed and laid his head on her lap. She set down one corner of the book to stroke her fingers through his hair, brushing the bangs back from his forehead as her voice continued in a steady hum.

They both knew that he had not come merely for a story. Just as they both knew he couldn't stay for long. But for right now, there were only the two of them. And at that moment in time. It was all either of them had wanted, in a long, long, time.

Botticelli: Alessandro or Sandro Botticelli was a famous painter during the Renaissance. One of his most famous paintings amongst others is his painting of Venus or "The birth of Venus" To find more, look here: http://en. you're Momma a Llama?" This was one of the first books I learned to read when I was a child and is one of my favorites because of the illustrations. The artist used water colors I believe and it was very well done.

Also , as a side note there is in fact a St. Alphonsus cathedral in Baltimore Maryland on West Saratoga street. Weather it still has a convent attached or not I am not sure. But there is a beautiful cathedral there. So if your in the neighbor hood or you like gothic architecture. Go check it out.