Ward took off his sunglasses. The dim shadows of the church only minimally aggravated his hangover. He dipped his fingers in the basin of holy water and crossed himself, an act of proto-Catholic muscle memory. He waited until the last of the penitents in line had made their peace before kneeling down in the tiny confessional.
"Bless me father, for I have sinned. It's been…oh, probably almost twenty years since my last confession."
Curtis was born in El Paso. Coulson had missed that fact because the boy had been raised in and incarcerated in Alabama. Coulson felt like he was missing a lot of facts these days, being pulled in a million directions by the responsibilities of the directorship. He was used to a very hands-on approach, to knowing and managing his people directly. He used to know exactly how much farther he could push someone, whether they could handle a particular assignment or not. Now, he got that information in reports from people whose judgment may or may not align with his own. Given his age, rank, and newfound disability, it was less prudent than ever for him to head out into the field unnecessarily.
He hated feeling a step behind.
He had an intuition, though. He was very good with gut feelings and he had one now. He took his phone off the receiver, set it down and dialed.
The priest had a warm voice. "It's not quite so formal, now, as it was twenty years ago," he said.
"The formality never bothered me," said Ward. "It was the rigidity. I hated church when I was a kid. All the rules. No exceptions." He shifted and said, "Honor thy father and mother," in a tone normally reserved for war criminals and pedophiles.
"You were raised in the church."
"A bit. I was baptized. I made my first communion. I never did the one…what's it called…like a Christian bar mitzvah."
"Confirmation?"
"Yeah, never did that one."
The priest nodded, though of course, Ward couldn't see him. "Are you here for the sacrament of reconciliation? Or would you prefer we just talk?"
"If it's not the ritual, can you be forced to testify under oath?"
The priest thought about this for a moment. He worked at a large semi-urban parish. He had a good relationship with the police. He helped them when he could and they in turn agreed not to push the boundaries of the privilege his religious liberty afforded him. And yet, this man was here for a reason. Finally, he said, "I keep private anything told to me in a spirit of reconciliation."
"Heh," said Ward, recognizing equivocation when he heard it. "It doesn't matter." He sighed. A moment passed, then he continued. "Can thoughts be sins? That never made sense to me when I was a kid. Lusting was a sin. Coveting was a sin. How can it be a sin if you don't do anything? How can a thought count against your soul?" His question bordered on eloquence. Ward had a pinch of artistry to him when his mood was right.
"Even secular law treats hate crimes differently from other crimes, or pre-meditated murder differently from impulsive murder. That would seem to be punishing people on the basis of their thoughts."
"But the act was committed. If the thought is there, but the action isn't, how can that be a sin?"
"I bel-" The priest stopped himself. He wasn't sure what sort of man he was speaking with. He knew that there were occasionally mentally ill people who were preoccupied with uncontrollable thoughts. He didn't have the training to handle those cases, but he knew enough to avoid making them worse. "Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"
Ward let out a sort of half-laugh, a breath with a bit of noise. "Bothering me," he echoed. "That's not the word I would have chosen." He fell silent, but before he could be prompted, he started to speak again. "There are two people – a man and a woman – who wronged me in the most terrible way. It was the woman who actually did it, but the man led her there, made it possible, ordered her into the battle."
"What did they do to you?"
"They made me kill the woman I loved," said Ward, his voice devoid of expression.
A murder. Unless this was metaphorical, someone was murdered. The priest tried to control his shock. He had heard about people confessing this sort of thing, but had never experienced it himself. He asked a bland question. "This woman, was she family? Your girlfriend? Your wife?"
"My girlfriend, I suppose. We hadn't known each other long. But I loved her. And she loved me." His voice grew harsher. "And they tricked me. They didn't just kill her, no, they were crueler than that. They made me do it. I was just the weapon."
"You sound angry."
"I am."
"Director," said Dr. Garner, with a polite nod.
Coulson glanced down at the file on his desk. "I'd like an update on your profile of Ward. Based on new information. What else can you tell us about him?"
"He was apparently providing post-exposure HIV treatment without telling the boy why. Whether it's a misguided act or not, it's hard to imagine keeping that secret for any reason other than genuine concern."
"And the lightning trap?"
"Genuine concern for some people, murderous rage for others."
"You said in the original profile that you thought he was choosing followers primarily based on their experiences of injustice, rather than for their strategic value," said Coulson. "What if that were wrong?"
"I am angry," repeated Ward, "and how can that be a sin?"
"I don't know that it is," said the priest. "But the things we do with our anger-"
"I didn't do the thing!" snapped Ward. "I thought about it. I planned it. I started it. But I stopped. That's the important thing, right? That I stopped? I couldn't go through with it. Because I'm not evil. I'm not evil just for having some bad thoughts. It wasn't such a bad plan."
The priest was at a loss. He was having trouble following the man's story and he was starting to strongly suspect that he was hearing about some very serious criminal activity. He wished that he had more carefully considered his earlier words about the sanctity of the confessional.
"At first, I thought I would just kill them, the way they killed her. But that's not a fair trade. They didn't just kill her. They made me do it. Can you imagine?" Ward slammed his palm against the wooden kneeler. "So I had to find someone they loved. And I did. Not someone the woman loves – I don't think she loves anyone – but the man, I was going to make him kill his-"
Fourteen Years Ago
May looked at the man slumped over against the bar and sighed. "I can't keep covering for you."
"Shhh," said Coulson. He groaned and waved an uncoordinated, indifferent hand in the general direction of the unsympathetic noises. "You don't have to cover for me. I'm pretty sure they already know where I am."
"Fine then," said May, pulling up a barstool next to Coulson's, "you're right. They know where you are and they know you're acting like a self-destructive teenager. I'm here to bring you back and clean up any messes you've made."
"I didn't spill any secrets sitting here getting wasted."
"And you've just been sitting here getting wasted?" May raised an eyebrow in a way that made clear she already knew the answer.
Coulson waved his hand dismissively again. "I'm allowed a little rebound. I'm not stupid enough to spill secrets while I do it."
"If it makes you feel any better, Barton's being disciplined."
Coulson shook his head. "You know, that doesn't make me feel better. If Barton's what Laura wants," he began, but he never finished his sentence. He had dated Laura for eight or nine months and, if he was honest with himself, they had been merely good together, not great. But regardless of the circumstances, breakups were always shitty, and breaking up with a woman by catching her sleeping with your prized asset, well…he wasn't going to pretend that didn't sting.
"I have no interest in wading into your personal life," said May, "but I would be more than happy to pin Barton's arms while you punch him in the stomach."
Coulson smiled weakly. "I can always count on you."
"Only because you don't do this very often." May stood up, carefully mindful of the various bar-floor substances she would rather avoid. "Now pay your tab and let's get the hell out of El Paso."
I'm thinking there are about 2-3 chapters remaining. Thanks for reading, please review!
