Disclaimer: MutantX and its associated characters, locale, etc. belong to Tribune Entertainment et alia and no copyright infringement is in any way intended. This story, its ideas, and original characters (ie. Father Awa in this case) are my own and I would appreciate it if I were asked before anyone used them.
EFFECTIVE APRIL 27 2005: The lyrics to Michael W. Smith's "On the Other Side" from the album I 2 (eye) have been removed as per stated wishes of fanfiction dot net (see front page). However, they fit this story beautifully- they inspired this story -and I recommend you run a quick search on them, and have a listen to the song.
Author's Note: A huge thank-you to everyone who's reviewed. I'm finding this story difficult to write, but I can't get it out of my mind. It's been bothering me for months, but I'm only now getting around to getting it out of my head and onto paper. I wasn't sure how it would be received, so your feedback means a lot to me.
Rating on this one chapter is pushed up to PG 13 for an instance of harsh language that I felt was true to character.
Crisis of Faith – Chapter 3
By Deichtine
The next Sunday, Jesse awoke late, and when he checked the computer, it showed that Brennan had already left; indeed, he'd been gone almost an hour. He had planned to follow his mysterious teammate this time, but now that he was already late, he wasn't sure it was worth it.
He got out of bed and phased himself through the wall that separated his room from Brennan's, and began to glance around for any clues as to what the Elemental might be up to, hoping he could find something without disturbing things too much.
He was surprised again at how little stuff Brennan had. His and Shalimar's rooms were always overflowing with clutter, and even Emma's was starting to get a lived-in feel. But Brennan's room felt like a hotel room – like things were only brought out as needed, ready to pack up again at a moment's notice. There was something about it that bothered him about that, but he made himself shrug it off. After all, living on the streets, on the wrong side of the law, Brennan must be used to living sparsely, Jesse reasoned. "You've gotta be ready to get up and go."
Finally, his eyes alighted on a black hardcover book sitting on the nightstand – or, more specifically, they alighted on a piece of paper that had been used as a bookmark. Jesse lifted the piece of paper out of the book without even glancing at the title on the spine, and held it to the light. Sure enough, Brennen's rough handwriting was scrawled across one side.
MIKE – 9:30 SUNDAY IN FRONT OF ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS"Bingo."
-----
"Brennan!"
Brennan greeted the old priest with a smile and a warm handshake. "How're you doing, Father?" he asked. It still felt a little strange to address anyone as "Father", but the more he got used to it, the more it seemed to fit the little old Filipino.
"Wonderful, wonderful. Tell me, what did you think of my homily? Too long? Too short? I get a lot of complaints when they're too short, you know."
Brennan's eyebrows shot up even as he moved aside to allow the people exiting the church to pass by him. "Really?" he asked congenially.
"Well, they just barely get to sleep and bam! It's time for the Credo. Can't have a good nap that way."
Brennan grinned in spite of himself. "It was just right," he answered in the same teasing tone. "I even had time for a pretty cool dream."
Father Awa threw back his head and laughed aloud. "There!" he said triumphantly. "I knew it!"
"What?"
The little priest pointed straight at Brennan's chest, which was close to eyelevel for him, and fixed him with a knowing look. "That there was a sense of humour in there under all that angsty brooding seriousness. Come, now, are you ready to tell me yet what's bothering you? Or am I going to have to ferret it out of you?"
Brennan smiled sheepishly, and glanced at his watch. Just past nine. He had some time, and he would like to get some things settled in his mind before meeting Mike. "Do you have time now?" he asked, somewhat hesitantly.
"Of course. Come on to my office." With that, the grey-haired priest sprang off down the aisle towards the little side door, leaving Brennan to follow him.
Awa's office consisted of bookshelves, among which in the small space were nestled a little desk on which sat a dusty, ancient-looking computer and a rotary-style telephone, and in front of the desk two comfy-looking old plaid armchairs. Brennan was instantly comfortable there.
Motioning Brennan to take a seat, Father Awa pulled his chasuble and outer vestments over his head and draped them carefully across the desk, leaving him in a short-sleeved black shirt (with the obligatory backwards white collar at the throat) and black pants. He plopped down in the chair across from Brennan and said, "So, Brennan, what's on your mind, then?"
Brennan thought he'd have trouble getting started, but it seemed almost as soon as he opened his mouth, the floodgates were opened, and he was telling the priest everything that had been on his mind, everything that had happened to him in the last months. He said nothing about Mutant X or mutants specifically, but rather spoke of leaving his past behind, and trying to earn the respect of his new companions. And finally, he told him how, lately, he'd felt himself pulled back towards the Church, but always feeling unworthy to be there when he came.
"It's like I've walked into a fancy dress party in dirty jeans and three days' beard," he said, struggling to explain. "You know, my mom always had the nicest picture of Jesus on the wall in my room when I was little; he had these eyes, eyes that just seemed to …look right at you, then smile at what they saw. Like he really loved you, you know? I know, it sounds crazy. But, it's like, lately, I feel like I can't change, can't really leave my old life behind, until I can get that feeling back – like God can look at me, and smile. But I don't know if I ever can. There's been so much….It's been so long."
Father Awa sat through all of Brennan's speech, listening attentively, nodding, murmering encouragement, and when Brennan finally trailed off, he regarded him with intelligent eyes for a moment, before abruptly breaking the silence.
"Do you happen to speak any Tagalog, Brennan?" he asked.
Brennan blinked. "What?"
"Tagalog. My native language, a beautiful tongue. My name is Awa. In Tagalog, this means 'mercy'. I was named after the mercy of God, Brennan, and for good reason. Mercy by definition is freely given. Otherwise, it is not mercy, but rather some sort of trade-off. No, Brennan, it is His mercy that makes God so great, and such a perfect Father to us. That he has so much love for us, for me, for you, Brennan Mulwray, that he is always willing to forgive." Awa's hands gestured widely with the depth of his feeling. "Oh, Brennan, don't you see? Jesus has always seen you just like you imagined in the picture of your mother's. He looks at you, in your dirty jeans and stubbly chin, and loves what he sees. He has been waiting for you to find him again, so he can give you new clothes. All you have to do is be sincere, and be willing to put them on when he gives them to you."
He leaned forward. "And, Brennan, it wouldn't hurt for you to try to have a little mercy on yourself, too."
Brennan smiled a little awkwardly, unable to respond right away. Then, suddenly, he caught a glance of his watch, and saw the time. Nine forty. "Oh, sh….oot!" he said. "I'm late, I was supposed to meet someone ten minutes ago." He stood up and clasped the priest's hand.
"Thank you, Father. It feels…better…to talk about it."
"Anytime, Brennan, anytime. Think about what I've said. And, before you go, can I ask you, have you ever been to Confession?"
Brennan shrugged, a touch uncomfortably. "Once. When I was a kid. Before my first Communion, I think. I'm not sure I really understood the point."
"Here." Awa plucked a book off a shelf nearby and gave it to Brennan. "Have a look at this. It talks a bit more about it. And next week, if you like, if you're ready, just say the word. No pressure, but I think you might find it helpful. Just think about it."
Brennan accepted the book and put it in his inside pocket. "Okay, Father. I will."
Brennan skipped down the church steps two at a time, seeing with an odd mixture of relief and discomfort that Mike was waiting for him at the corner. He knew what he had to do, what he had to say, but he wasn't sure he would be able to.
"So you did come!" Mike said, clasping Brennan's hand. "I was beginning to think you'd left me dry."
"No way, man, you're my brother, you know that." As he said it, Brennan thought how true those words were. He and Mike had shared their last foster home and hit the streets together. They'd stuck together for over ten years, watching each other's backs. But now, it was like Brennan was seeing him from across a divide; his life had irrevocably changed, and their former closeness was going to make it harder to do what he had to.
"What were you doing in there?" Mike said, indicating the church with a motion of his chin.
Brennan shrugged. "What do you think?" he asked.
Mike stared at him incredulously. "You're not going to tell me you found Jesus, are you?"
Brennan tried to smile blandly. "Was he lost?"
Mike rolled his eyes and mimed a heart attack. "I cannot believe this. Brennan Mulwray, of all people, getting religion. Well, come on, we'll cure you of that soon enough. My client is so eager to meet you. I told him you weren't in for sure, but I know you're not going to let me down." And he swung an arm roughly around Brennan's neck to pull him forward towards an unthreatening little family diner down the street. Brennan looked at the little restaurant with a feeling of dread in his stomach. Something told him that if he let himself go in, he wouldn't come out without having been roped into the 'job of a lifetime'.
He stopped, making Mike stop with him. "Mike, wait. I need to talk to you."
-----
Jesse sat silently behind the wheel of the nondescript blue sedan and watched Brennan meeting a young man he obviously knew well across the street. Quickly, he used the micro-camera concealed in his com-ring to snap several pictures of the young man, then hesitated slightly, his finger poised above a link on the touchscreen of his palm computer. I've already searched his room and followed him across town. What's a little eavesdropping at this point? He thought to himself, and let his finger fall, and instantly the pickup from Brennan's ring began relaying their conversation to him.
"My client is so eager to meet you. I told him you weren't in for sure, but I know you're not going to let me down."
"Mike, wait. I need to talk to you."
"We really don't have time, Brennan. I told you, my client is waiting, and he's the paranoid type. Of course, he has every reason to be. Now, listen. The job is a lot like the last one; a lot of complicated electronic security. You think you can handle that?"
"That's not the problem. Mike-"
"And just think of it, Brennan! Diamonds! We're after diamonds this time! We're graduating to the big leagues, Brennan!"
"What, the bank job wasn't enough to put us in the big leagues?"
"This is going to make the bank job look like knocking down a lemonade stand."
Jesse had heard enough. He turned off the speaker and revved the car to life. So he had been right. Brennan hadn't changed at all.
-----
Mike was ready to lead him across the street, but Brennan made him stop. "Mike, would you just listen to me?" he said, cutting his friend off in midsentence. "I'm trying to tell you I'm not in this time."
Mike's face showed clearly that he didn't believe him. "You're joking, right? Come on, Brennan, it's you and me, man. Like always. Nothing's gonna change that."
"Something has."
A touch of fear lit in Mike's eyes and he took a little step back. "What are you talking about, Brennan?"
Brennan sighed. "I don't know how to put it gently, Mike. I've quit. I'm done with the criminal life. I can't do it anymore."
"Of course you can. I know you must have got a scare when those goons jumped you in the skycourse, but-"
Brennan shook his head impatiently. "You're not listening! It has nothing to do with that. Yeah, that was a catalyst, but not for the reasons you think. I'm not scared. Hell, most of the stuff I'm doing now's a damn sight more dangerous. It's just…it's wrong, Mike. There's a better way for me to use myself, my…talents, a better life. There's a better me out there, Mike, and I'm going after him."
Mike sneered. "They really got your head turned around in that church, didn't they? What, did they tell you the devil's gonna get you if you don't repent your sinning ways?"
"No! That's not the point!" Brennan turned his face away as he paced a few steps, running his hands roughly through his hair. "It's just, I can be more than a criminal, Mike. I don't need to live by hurting other people, and neither do you." He turned back to his oldest friend and took him by the shoulders, pleading in his eyes. "Come on, Mike, you're so smart, you've got so much going for you. Let me help you, I know people who can get you set up in a whole new life, no ties to the past, a clean start. Get out of the life! It eats you inside, Mike, even if you don't feel it yet. Don't go meet that guy. You're better than him! You owe it to yourself!"
Mike shook himself away from Brennan's touch roughly. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but you're not the Brennan Mulwray I knew. I can't believe you could have changed so much. Do I even know you anymore, Brennan?"
Brennan felt like he was being torn in two. "Mike, I…please. Just, listen. It doesn't have to be like this, the hiding, the dirt, the fear, ruining lives. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me. Please, Mike. Just leave it behind."
Mike shook his head. His eyes were the eyes of a man who has just realized he has stepped on someone else's chewing gum – full of disgust. "You're crazy, man. Seriously fucked in the head. You don't know what you're giving up, and if you think you can come back and make everything right when you come to your senses, you've got another thing coming. Now this is your last chance, Brennan. Are you coming or not?"
Brennan took a step back and shook his head mutely.
"Fine." Mike turned away, put his sunglasses on, and, without looking back, went on into the restaurant where his client was waiting.
End Chapter 3. Please, please do review!
A/N: I don't speak Tagalog, more's the pity. Source for this is the Katálogo ng mga Apelyidong Pilipino (Catalogue of Filipino Names) by Hector Santos, found online (sorry can't post the url).