The Rescued

The first time that Meg entered the church since that fateful Wednesday it was almost exactly how it was before, the only difference being Meg's overall attitude. There were still five people in attendance and it looked more like a social gathering than a congregation, but Meg was significantly better, holding her head higher than usual, she was still quiet and reserved, not as open or friendly as she used to be; but she was at least attempting visibility.

Sitting towards the back of the sanctuary was Quagmire. He had his own reasons for coming, but for the most part it was the same as everyone else's, a sad and pathetic attempt to feel good about himself. He wanted to believe that he was going because besides Cleveland and occasionally Joe, he was the only one who actually gave a damn about anything on Spooner Street.

"Being faithful and good is not enough" Bernstein declared, "Reading the Bible and praying every day is not enough. Not anymore."

Bernstein paused for a moment and looked about his small congregation, his eyes resting on Meg, particularly her face, which was brighter and full of color. Looking into her, Bernstein could see why people were taken with her; a natural beauty that makeup would only destroy or hide. Beyond that, he also saw a little bit of Meg's heart, which for some reason, she decided to wear on her sleeve. Bernstein saw the troubled and sad girl, the tortured soul asking, begging for help. He saw her as a thing to be pitied and to feel sorry for. Bernstein, although a decent man and one of faith, often times felt little in terms of human emotion, another person reminiscent of Archdeacon Frollo a cold and calculating thinker, a man of great renown and poor judgement, who places the law in the literal sense, a caster of stones and an accuser; and yet was the pinnacle of devotion and righteousness.

"Stand up sinner" Bernstein declared, "Stand and be reborn, through faith may all your misdeeds be forgiven."

Quagmire turned towards the pastor, his eyebrows raised. Twisting his body in an awkward half turn, Quagmire faced Bernstein curiously, wondering what it was he was going to say, and at the same time already guessing it himself. In his mind he was insulted at words that were not even said. Meg held her breath, not out of fear or because she was underwater, but in preparation for what was to come. Bernstein continued as if nothing was happening, or, more accurately, as if he were the only person in the room. Looking around the mostly empty room once more, Bernstein lifted his hands towards the ceiling and with the voice of a great orator, or a circus ringmaster, he continued his piece.

"Lord I ask that you enter this poor and wretched soul. That you rid her of any and all doubt of your existence. That you, in all your glory, cast out the demons and show her the way. Let us all show her the way. Let us teach her the Way of the Lord."

Quagmire stood up, causing Bernstein to turn towards him. Before the pastor could say anything further, Quagmire stopped him with the raising of his hand. It was everything he had not to form it into a fist and give Bernstein what he deserved, but he did not, in order to maintain his image.

"I believe there's a book somewhere that says he who is without sin, cast the first stone." Quagmire exclaimed, "Is that right?"

Bernstein nodded, not entirely sure where Quagmire was going with the statement; his phrasing off and obviously antagonistic.

"What's your point?" Bernstein continued.

Quagmire huffed and shook his head, refusing to believe that Bernstein thought so highly of himself.

"Step down off that high horse of yours." Quagmire declared, "She does not need to be patronized. She is not simply something that can be pitied, she is a human being and is allowed to feel pain."

Bernstein rolled his eyes and scowled, quickly he turned towards the congregation and laughed, already continuing his sermon, rephrasing his own statements in order to make himself feel superior. Quagmire slowly motioned towards Meg, who nodded, catching the hint and walked out of the room, Meg following close behind.

A few blocks down in the Drunken Clam, Brian was busy busing tables, a dirty bar rag draped casually over his left arm and a spray bottle in his right hand. Two tables down he could see Jillian, his current girlfriend, and Bonnie Swanson, the former drinking water, the latter holding a half empty glass of wine. A jukebox in the corner of the room was on, the beginning notes of the Goo Goo Dolls' anthem Iris. Calmly making his way over, Brian thought about all the times he had looked at other women, all of the times he had fantasies. In his heart and in his head he knew that these thoughts and desires were natural, for he was a male, and being a male had certain tendencies; but Brian also knew that no matter what he would always go back to Jillian.

"What'll it be ladies?" Brian asked, hamming it up in an effort to get a laugh, "Wine? Beer? Scented candles and Marvin Gaye? Hot tub maybe?"

Jillian and Bonnie rolled their eyes and laughed playing along for Brian's sake.

"I'll take you up on that offer Brian" Jillian answered, "Just say when and where."

Brian smiled and casually looked at his watch. He had seven and a half hours left, most of them spent with loud and unruly drunks that cared little for him, calling him a waste of breath and an unnatural abomination that should be shot on sight. These remarks Brian paid little mind to, but just because he ignored them doesn't mean that he necessarily liked it. It should, then, go without saying that the early hours of his shift were Brian's favorite, because that is when Jillian and Bonnie, Ernie, Joe Swanson, Quagmire, and all of the people he considered friends, showed up.

Jerome whistled, Brian's cue to head to the counter. Sighing and shaking his head, secretly wishing that he was off if only to spend some much needed quality time with Jillian, and to a lesser extent Bonnie. Still, despite the money not being good, it was still money, which was something that given the circumstances Brian couldn't pass up.

Standing behind the counter and trying to put on his best smile possible, Brian silently began singing the chorus to Iris, if only because it gave him something to do. Reaching down on the lower shelf and grabbing a clean bar rag, the dog slowly continued his cleaning duties, moving from glass to glass, in order to have as much work as possible during the busy hours. His movements were meticulous and evenly paced, but behind the stained grey apron that he wore and underneath the green visor that was firmly on his head was an exhausted body and tired eyes. Brian wanted nothing more in that moment than to stop moving, if only to remind himself that the world was still turning.

The bell above the door signaling that it had been opened rung throughout the bar causing Brian and Jillian and Bonnie across the room, to look up and see Quagmire and Meg. Giving them a courtesy whistle, summoning them over at the same time, Brian immediately poured what he considered his specialty, root beer floats, knowing that Quagmire had recently stopped drinking, partly because of Peter, and partly because he wanted to keep his liver, what was left of it, in good order.

"What brings you guys down here?" Brian asked, setting the drinks on the table, "This a social call?"

Quagmire huffed and rolled his eyes, he was still too upset about Bernstein to much in the way of sociable. Meg, in order to show her support, grasped his hand and gave the warmest smile possible.

"Thanks" she said, embracing him at the same time, "You didn't have to do that."

Quagmire shook his head and quickly removed her hand off of his, taking a drink of his float.

"Of course I did" Quagmire retorted, "You think I would let that idiot talk to you that way? Are you out of your mind?"

Brian raised his eyebrows curiously, trying to understand the situation and failing.

"Did I miss something?" Brian asked, concern and confusion entering his voice, "What happened?"

Quagmire waved him off and rose from the counter, moving towards the booth, sitting in his usual spot. Looking up at the TV, Quagmire saw Tom Tucker giving an interview with Carter Pewterschmidt, he couldn't understand what it was they were talking about, but given the circumstances Quagmire guessed that it had something to do with the custody battle. It was times like these that Quagmire wished that Peter were here, always able to make jokes out of everything, now it seemed that all humor that made life tolerable was gone.

"I miss him" Quagmire exclaimed, mostly talking to himself, "Goddamn I miss him."

Meg nodded and casually drank her float, which already was beginning to turn flat, the root beer having expired almost a week before. She smiled as she thought about Peter and everything he did, how happy he seemed to be, how nothing brought him down even when things were at their worst. Meg remembered how much he tried to be everything all the time, and even when he couldn't, when it was inevitable, he still found a way to be the constant thing that never changed.

Bonnie and Jillian rose from their places, Bonnie taking a place next to Quagmire, where Cleveland normally was, and Jillian taking a bar stool next to Meg.

"So what's next?" Jillian asked.

"Not really sure" Brian answered, "If you're interested I'd be happy to take you with me."

Brian gave a subtle wink Meg's way, who caught on to the obvious segue into marriage. Jillian, in turn, could only laugh and shake her head hopelessly at the idea, not in the fact that the idea was ridiculous in itself, in fact she actually wanted it; it was rather, the awkwardness of the transition from Peter to themselves despite not much in the way of verbal conversation haven taken place.

"Don't you have a custody battle to take care of?" Jillian remarked, "Shouldn't you be focusing on that instead?"

Brian nodded and gave a quiet sigh. He could only hope that Mr. Peabody would get to Quahog as soon as possible with something he could use. He also hoped that Carter's promise of a jury was an empty threat, for it was unlikely that he would have anyone come forward to serve as character witnesses. Brian knew in his heart that Carter, who has stayed away from him thus far, couldn't keep waiting forever; he also knew that Carter, being a man of business and legal sense, had already assembled a case against him. Still, despite his doubt, Brian had faith, not in himself but in his friends, which is all he ever had to begin with.

The door opened yet again, this time it was Vinny, followed by Vincent Venitti. The minister casually looked around and made himself comfortable at the farthest bar stool. Venitti meanwhile, looked at his wristwatch, and then at the clock on the wall in the corner of the room, after which he nodded to himself and took a seat next to Vinny. Brian, who immediately walked over in order to score some hospitality points with Jerome and potentially get a raise, finished the glass he was working on and nonchalantly leaned on the counter, waiting to hear their orders. They said nothing.