A/N
I was digging through my old files and managed to unearth this fossil. This was not the first sequel/prequel chapter I wrote for "In Sheep's Clothing" ; in fact, I've written close to four different oneshots focusing on Agent William "Shepherd" Finnegan.
It just so happens that this oneshot was the most complete and least-awful. After some editing and trimming, I figured that it was good enough to be tacked onto "In Sheep's Clothing".
Editing this oneshot reminded me of how much I like Agent Finnegan's character, so I might look into cleaning up the other one shots as well, assuming that I can find the time.
Anyways…
Recruitment…
Pastor William Finnigan was spending his Wednesday's in one of his least favourite places - the confessional booth…
It was not the task that lay before which made the older man feel deflated and tired. After all, confession was an important ritual for both himself and those who attended his small church in the heart of Brooklyn; a sacred ritual, a chance to cleanse and absolve oneself of the sins committed, knowingly or unknowingly, in day-to-day life…
William's current tired state of mind was a product of his environment, not his duty. It was a warm summer day, and the one place in his church always untouched by the air conditioning were the confessional booths. They were dark and cramped, a dust-scented curtain serving as the veil between the booth and the outside world. Within the booth was a hard wooden bench and a thick screen through which to speak to the person on the other side.
Often, comfort was not a part of his occupation…
"I argued with my sister-in-law…" A soft-sounding sigh came from the other side of the wire screen.
The voice on the other side of the wire screen was female and mousy, with the drawling undertone of an older woman. William recognized the voice, it was Mary Baines, a regular member of his congregation. Although the wire screen obscured his vision William could picture her face; stretched skin creased by gentle wrinkles, watery eyes, and small pendant earrings that made a distinctive jingling noise whenever she moved.
William knew who she was the moment she had started to speak; he had always had a knack for remembering names and faces. But confession was meant to be a private affair, hence the heavy drape and screen.
Mary had brought this problem to him before, and perhaps it was time to adjust his angle…
"What did you argue with her about?" William asked gently, holding his tongue to not say "again" and reveal his knowledge about the woman on the other side of the wire screen.
"It's silly…" Mary sighed, her voice gathering in the back of her throat. "It's just that she always acts like she knows what's best… this time it was about my choice of tablecloth…"
William rested his temple against the hard wood of the booth's wall, rolling it gently against the hard surface.
"...she actually had the gall to say that the embroidery was tacky!" Mary scoffed, anger bubbling in her voice. "She knew that it was a marriage gift from my mother, how rude can one be!?"
There was silence on the other side of the screen, save for the gentle shifting of clothing.
"And John refuses to say anything because he doesn't want to argue with his sister…" Mary sighed. "I'm sorry, Pastor… I shouldn't be talking your ear off about all this. I'm sure that there are others seeking to confess their sins."
"You are upset, it's only natural to vent…" William reassured the unseen woman. "The next time that your sister-in-law says something that offends you, take a breath and try to collect yourself, there is nothing to be gained from conflict."
"Yes, Pastor…" Mary breathed out an audible sigh. "You're right. I should not have jumped so quickly to anger…"
"Anger is just one part of what makes us human," William continued quietly. "You have recognized your wrongdoing, which is the first step towards forgiveness. Go now, pray the rosary, and do not sin again."
"Thank you, Pastor."
"Peace be with you."
Mary Baines, having completed her confession, moved to exit the dank confines off the booth. There was the sound of air whooshing and fabric fluttering as she pushed the heavy drape away from the entrance. William listened intently as Mary Baines made her exit, most likely towards a pew so that she could begin her prayers.
Moving his sore neck from side to side, the older man leaned backwards and gently tugged up the left sleeve of his blazer. A chilly blue light was emanating from the face of his digital watch.
6:00 PM
It wasn't as late as William had expected. Confession hours in his church ran from four to seven on Wednesdays, which meant that he would be spending another hour in the booth waiting for people to show up. William did not like exiting before the hours ended, not wanting to interrupt the privacy of the church's attendants as they prayed…
His legs were cramped and his back ached. He was getting old, the fifty-year mark already in the rearview mirror. Despite his age he was in good physical condition; a careful diet, a daily jog, and regular checkups with his doctor had always kept his health in check. His hair, coloured a vigorous iron grey, was still thick where it grew atop his head and around his jaw.
William's ears picked up the noise of boots thudding against the wood and carpet floors of the church. The rhythmic sounds grew in volume, indicating that someone was approaching the confessional booths…
Straightening his back and banishing all other thoughts from his mind, Pastor William Finnegan prepared himself for the next confessor. His suspicions about the footsteps were proven correct, as after a few moments the curtain on the other booth was audibly drawn open. There were the noises of fabric ruffling and boot soles scraping as the person settled themselves behind the screen, drawing the curtain behind them as they did so.
There was a long moment of silence…
"Hello?" Finnegan asked, leaning forwards towards the screen.
"Uh, right…" Coughed a male voice. It was deep-sounding, with a throaty undertone "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been… well…
The unidentified man on the other side of the screen chuckled, his tone low.
"I'll be honest with you, I can't even remember the last time I went to a confession…"
William relaxed and leaned back on his bench. "And what have you come to confess?"
There was another long, tense silence. William could see the outline of the man's silhouette through the screen.
"There's a whole list…" The man finally responded. "I've sinned plenty…"
"You are strong for admitting this…" William nodded. "Admission of wrongdoing is the first step, my son. None of us are infallible or perfect, and even those with the best of intentions might find themselves transgressing against God."
"Even you, Father?" Asked the man on the other side of the screen.
"I am not an exception…" William raised his finger. "Even I know intimately of sin… and I would be a terrible hypocrite to say otherwise."
"Right…" The strange man chuckled. "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone…"
William finally realised that he could not recognize the man's voice - this newest confessor was a stranger…
"Ah, the Book of John," William quietly responded. "Do you know the story behind that quote?"
"I'm a little bit fuzzy on the details… but that doesn't matter…" The voice on the other side of the screen drawled. "Could I ask you a personal question, Father?"
"Of course."
"What's the worst sin that you've ever committed?"
William felt himself tense at the question. It was a very odd thing to ask. But then again, who was he to ask people to confess and lay themselves bare without doing the same?
"When I was a young man, I travelled down a bad path," Finnegan admitted, licking his lips. "I had many negative influences in my life which pushed me in that direction, but in the end the decisions that I made were my own. I wasted my life and ambition away on pointless vices…"
"It sounds like you were a handful."
"I was… and I am grateful that I have moved on from those times."
"You didn't answer my question though…"
Finnegan frowned. "I don't know if I can give you one; if I can be truthful, I scarcely remember those turbulent years. But I cheated, lied, stole, and pushed away the few people who did truly care about me…"
"And how'd you get out of that?"
"One day… well… I suppose I had an epiphany. I woke up and realised that I had no purpose or direction," Finnegan chuckled quietly. "It may sound strange coming from a man like me, but I ended up joining the military for a time…"
There was silence on the other side of the screen, Finnegan took it as a sign for him to continue.
"Yes, I can't say that I enjoyed my time there. But it instilled discipline in me. That, and it was there that I found my true calling in life."
"As a holy man…" The stranger chuckled on the other side of the screen. "Interesting."
"I hope that my story can give you some insight," Finnegan leaned forwards where he sat. "So, what have you come to confess?"
"Woah now, hold your horses…" The voice chuckled, the outline of the man shifting behind the screen. "You were in the military?"
Finnegan cocked his head. "Yes."
"Of course, where you served two tours of duty during the first Gulf War…" The voice on the other side of the screen spoke plainly.
Finnegan blinked in surprise, his voice quivering as he tried to formulate a response. "How do you-"
"You had a short, but distinguished career…" The deep voice drawled. "You even managed to earn a Silver Star… impressive. You shouldn't be omitting details like that. William Finnegan, you served your country with honour, take pride in that…"
It took a moment for William to realise that his knuckles had turned white, his fingers pulled into tight fists. Who was the strange man sitting on the other side of the screen? How did he know these things about him? William had always been quiet about his past…
"Let's move on…" The strange man cleared his throat. "Do you own a gun, Pastor?"
"What?" William seethed.
"It's a trick question, I know that you own one," the mysterious man chuckled. "A pistol - a Model 1911, to be exact."
Hairs were now standing up on the back of William's neck.
"Kind of strange for a peace-loving holy man to own a gun, wouldn't you agree?" The man asked. "I'm not judging you, of course. You own it legally, you're on the national registry; and despite who you were in your past, your criminal record is squeaky clean…"
"Who are you?" William quietly demanded. "How do you know these things about me?"
"Who I am does not matter. Who you are is what does.." The man mumbled. "This might sound strange, but I am a representative of a group on the lookout for people just like you…"
"Answer my question, or I will escort you out of this church!" William raised his voice ever so slightly.
"Hold on, just for a moment…" The silhouette behind the screen raised his hands. "William Finnegan, I am not lying to you. We have been observing you for some time; and despite my associates believing you to be inappropriate for this role… I think that you have incredible potential…"
"I am tiring of this-"
"Please, hear me out…"
The man's voice sounded almost… pleading. Against his better judgement, William closed his mouth and allowed the man to continue.
"It would be best if this little chat remained secret…" The man's voice lowered in tone. "Now, let me ask you another question: do you think that our society is in danger?"
"What?"
"You are a holy man," the stranger reasoned. "You concern yourself with morality… and making sure that the people you preach to follow a righteous path. But you yourself know full well that not everybody feels the same way as you…"
"Are you a vigilante of some kind?" William snorted in derision. "If you've come to me looking for support, you won't find it."
"A vigilante? No… I believe in the rule of law…" The mysterious man's voice wavered for a moment. "What I'm trying to say is that our society exists on a knife's edge… and even a slight gust of wind could send everything toppling down..."
"Why are you telling me any of this? Why are you here?"
"I'm here to recruit you…"
"Recruit me?"William scoffed in disbelief. "Recruit me for what…?"
"You are a man with a distinguished military career…" The man spoke softly. "The group which I represent has been observing you. You are fair and impartial, humble and of sound judgement. In short, you would be an ideal candidate for keeping the peace, even under the most dire of circumstances…"
"What do you mean by 'keeping the peace'?"
"I mean that one day… and I don't know when or how… something calamitous will happen right here in the United States," the mysterious man explained. "Do you remember 9/11? Do you remember the panic and the fear that day? What if something as horrible as that happened on an even larger scale? Perhaps a foreign invasion of the United States? Or a pandemic…?"
"This all feels like an elaborate joke…" William snapped, his eyes narrowing on the wire screen. "Do not come here, waste my time and the time of my attendants, with these half-baked conspiracy theories-"
"If this was all some elaborate joke, how would I know about your military service? Why would I mention your gun?" The man responded. "We've got a whole file about you, William Finnegan."
"You have a file on me? Is that some kind of threat?"
"Of course not, I just want you to listen to what I'm saying and keep an open mind…" The man sighed and trailed off. "Perhaps approaching you in this way was a mistake - I can understand your confusion."
"What?"
"Why don't you and I meet face-to-face sometime? No booth and no screen between us…" The deep-voiced man continued. "If you're interested, head to Banner Avenue. There's a little bodega on the street corner with a separate basement. Talk to the guy at the door and tell him 'phoenix'... it's the password to get in…"
William felt nothing but confusion as the man on the other side audibly stood up to exit the booth. The older pastor could hear the drape shifting as it was quickly pushed to the side.
"This is all nonsense…" William scoffed. "Secrets and conspiracies? What would stop me from sharing this information? I have half a mind to go to the police…"
"Correct me if I'm wrong…" The deep-voiced man chuckled. "But isn't it against the rules for a priest to reveal the contents of a person's confession?"
Feeling agitated, William stood up in the small confines of the confession booth and drew the curtain aside. He stepped out of the dank little room, his eyes burning from harsh evening light cast through the stained glass windows of the church. He had it in his mind to chastise the strange man…
Except, there was no one there…
William was alone in the church, even Mary Baines had up and left, presumably after finishing her prayers. The only sign that there had been someone else were the scuff marks on the floor and the gently swinging front door…
Smoothing down his clothes, the older pastor lifted his arm and peered down at the face of his digital watch.
7:25 PM
How had it gotten so late? Time seemed to fly by…
Licking his dry lips, William turned on his heel, fully intending to head into the back rooms of his church. There were errands to run and chores to complete, and it was never wise to do either of those things after dark.
As he walked past the confessional booths, a mysterious glow caught the pastor's attention. It was not the sun's dying rays, as the glow gently emanated from the confessional booth opposite to his.
Pushing aside the dusty curtain, William Finnegan spotted the source of the mysterious light…
There was a small metal wristwatch resting atop the bench, its face glowing with concentric orange rings…