Return to Innocence: The Aftermath of Dogma
By: Cricket
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They are either from the Bible or from the incredible imagination of Kevin Smith (except for the characters that you don't recognize – they're mine). Please do not sue. I have no money.
^ ^ ^ ^
The alley was dark and the wind was cold. Dead leaves blew recklessly around the woman's feet as she increased her speed to her car. Bethany Sloan felt disturbance in the air as she cradled her young child in her arms. The alley was empty, but somehow, Bethany did not feel alone. Something was not right tonight. Someone was watching her.
Bethany wiped her long dark-brown locks from her eyes as she hugged her baby tighter to her chest. Everything seemed fine, but something in her gut was telling her to hurry to her car. If she could just get to her car . . .
"Hey, lady? Where are you going in such a hurry?" a deep voice came from the darkness. Bethany's heart jumped into her throat as she froze in her tracks. "We need to talk to you." A large bald-headed, muscled man, draped in a blood red silk shirt, emerged from the shadows. His piercing black eyes bore into Bethany's.
"Look, I don't want any trouble." Bethany retreated a few steps from the man who was now wearing a menacing grin on his face. But, she stopped suddenly when another voice called from the shadows.
"Neither do we. So, if you just hand over the child, quietly, there won't be any trouble."
Bethany's heart raced. //Oh, God,// she thought. But, her fierceness surprised even her. "Over my dead body," she hissed. Bethany's trembling hands betrayed her.
"What's the matter? Are you scared . . . Bethany?"
Her name on a third man's lips sent chills down Bethany's spine. "How – How do you know my name?" she stuttered, cursing her fear.
The three men, all adorned in red silk shirts, all of their hairless heads gleaming in the moonlight, encircled Bethany and her child. "We know all, Bethany," they recited in eerie unison.
"Who are you?"
"We've come for the child," the first man spoke. "We've come for Grace." He took another step towards her.
//How could they know my baby's name? What do they want?// Bethany wracked her brain for answers, but her thoughts were cut when one of the men with the steely eyes caught her arm. She let out an involuntary yelp.
"Please!" It was her last chance, or so she thought.
"Let her go." The words chilled the air like ice. The three men spun around and searched the dark alley for the owner of the livid voice. "I said, Let . . . her . . . go." The words were spoken in a mere whisper, but they rolled through the deserted alleyway like roaring thunder. A shadowy figure appeared in the dim light of a flickering street lamp. All Bethany could make out was a tall shadow of a man wearing a black trench coat and a hood, covering the face of her would-be savior.
The three men chuckled evilly, but moved away from Bethany and began making their way towards the man in the trench coat. She would have let out a sigh of relief, but she didn't dare make a noise. This was not over. Bethany watched as the hooded man took her place as the three ominous men circled him.
"What have we here?" One began with a laugh.
"Someone trying to be a hero, perhaps?" Another chanted.
"Maybe you should mind your own business, man." The third one chimed in.
The man in the trench coat didn't utter a word. He let the looming men tighten their circle around him. His face was still hidden by the hood, but Bethany could see no sign of fear from him. He stood tall and strong; not flinching when one of the men made the first move.
A large fist screamed towards the hooded man's face. But he dodged it with ease and countered with a jab to his attacker's abdomen, sending the man to his knees with a grunt. Bethany feared her eyes had betrayed her as she watched a large baseball bat seem to materialize from thin air into the hands of one of the silk-shirted men. He patted the bat rhythmically into his palm as he eyed his opponent with interest.
"You're out of your league here, boy. You don't know who you're dealing with." The man stopped pacing and faced his opponent directly.
"Don't I?" Came the flat reply from the mysterious, hooded man.
Bethany wanted to run. Grace began to stir in her arms and the last thing she needed right now was for her daughter to start crying. But, for some reason, Bethany could not take her eyes from the hooded man. //Who is he?// She wondered. //And why should he care about saving me?//
All three of the giant menacing men were on their feet again and more enraged than ever. And that's when it started: one of the most terrible fights that Bethany had ever witnessed. The four men became a jumble of blurred images, seeming to move faster than her eyes could follow. Cries of pain from fists meeting flesh echoed through the alley as the men continued to pummel each other. Incredibly, it looked as if the hooded man was gaining the advantage, until that very thought entered Bethany's mind – almost as if it cursed him. Thrown off-guard by dodging a punch from one steely-eyed man, Bethany's savior hurled himself directly in front of the man with the baseball bat...and it was too late for a warning.
The sound the man's flesh made when the bat connected with his ribcage was something Bethany never wanted to hear again. He cried out in agonizing pain as he doubled over, his knees smacking the pavement with a resounding thud. The cackling commenced from his attackers as they stood over him.
"You have failed," one spoke as the laughter subsided. The hooded man did not look up. "Now, show yourself, so we may see who it is we destroy!" Without warning, the steely-eyed man grabbed the hood and ripped it from the fallen man's head. An angelic face looked up in anger. The three men gasped loudly and stumbled backward.
"No," one whispered shakily. "It can't be."
Bethany strained her eyes to see the man's face, but the others were blocking her view. But then a word was uttered that made Bethany gasp just as loudly.
"Angel," the man with the baseball bat whispered; his eyes wide with fear.
The blood red silk-shirted men all retreated a few steps farther as the man in the trench coat began to rise to his feet again. And that's when Bethany saw him. "Oh my God," she whispered lightly enough that only she could hear. Her mind raced as fast as her heart, but her eyes stayed riveted on the man as he shakily stood and faced his attackers. His eyes burned with fury; a fury that Bethany had seen before; a fury she had known all too well. The fury of Bartleby.
But, Bartleby didn't have to say a word. His face said it all and it drove tremendous fear into the three men who, instantaneously, broke into a run for the shelter of the shadows. And they didn't look back. Bartleby watched them until he could no longer feel their presence and then his angry eyes fell and the pain on his face was unmistakable.
Bethany gasped as he finally looked over at her. But, his mannerisms were no longer threatening. He leaned over slightly as he grabbed his chest and winced in pain. He may have been able to fool his attackers, but it was plainly evident to Bethany now: He was badly hurt.
Bartleby chanced one last glance at Bethany and then, no longer able to support his own weight, he stumbled forward and then toppled to the ground.
Bethany's first instinct was to run. She turned in the opposite direction and took one step away......and then stopped. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and cursed under her breath. Bethany couldn't help but think of the last time she saw Bartleby. He had a knife to her throat and was determined to destroy the existence of Earth. She remembered the bloody scene as she and others came upon the Catholic Church to stop the angel from entering. Bartleby was a cold-hearted killer, the likes of which she never thought she see again.
She turned back to look at the heaped body that lay in the middle of the dark alley.
She couldn't help but remember the look in Bartleby's eyes just before he collapsed to the pavement. They weren't the same furious eyes that she had remembered from the past. They were different somehow; soft; weary; sad even. And above everything else, whether Bethany wanted to admit it or not, Bartleby had just saved her life – and not only her life, but Grace's too. She couldn't deny that.
She slowly but steadily walked over to the body on the ground. She knelt at his side and gently touched his pale cheek. He was unconscious. Bethany felt the heat of his increasingly warm flesh. He needed help...*She* needed help. Grace began to stir again and a whimper escaped her lips.
"Shhh," Bethany comforted. "Oh, what am I going to do?" Bethany's voice trembled as she spoke. She was afraid. What if those men came back for Grace now? Bartleby was in no shape to fight them off again. She dug into her purse and retrieved her cell phone. She prayed as she dialed that the phone connection would be strong. She was in the middle of nowhere, after all, and her cell phone never worked half the time anyway. But, faith was on Bethany's side tonight and she sighed with relief as she heard a "hello" on the other end of the line.
^ ^ ^ ^
She gently dabbed at Bartleby's forehead with a cool, damp cloth. Bethany took notice of his wounds that saved her tonight. He sported a rosy-red cheek from a fist that he couldn't escape. She had bandaged his arm which was ripped open as if a tiger's fierce claws had sliced at him. And his ribcage was already black and blue and green and purple from the effects of the baseball bat.
She sat at his side on her sofa and continued to trail the cool washcloth across his forehead and down his neck. He was burning up and the cloth, frequently dipped in ice-water, was the only thing Bethany knew of to help bring his fever down.
She and her roommate, Kirsten, who Bethany had called earlier, brought Bartleby back to their place, stripped him to his T-shirt and boxers, dressed his wounds and laid him snuggly underneath a soft, warm blanket on the couch in the living room. Not once, through the whole ordeal, did he awaken.
Bethany looked him over thoroughly, noticing that his hair was a tad bit longer since she last saw him, just enough to be spiky and disheveled. But, everything else about him she remembered to be the same. His broad shoulders and towering height were as intimidating as ever, but his angelic face completely juxtaposed the fierceness of his body type. To Bethany, Bartleby looked like a helpless child laying beside her right now. A child that could never even hurt a fly. But, Bethany knew, first hand, that looks could be deceiving.
"He doesn't look so good, Bethany. I think he might need a doctor." Kirsten stood above them with a concerned look on her innocent face. Her green eyes stayed transfixed on Bartleby's still body.
"No, a doctor won't be able to help him."
"What do you mean?" Kirsten glanced at Bethany.
"I just know, okay. A doctor won't help. You just have to trust me on this." Bethany spoke firmly, but not angrily. She returned her attention back upon the sleeping Bartleby. "This is all we can do, for now."
Kirsten nodded. She wasn't one to argue with Bethany and besides, most of the time, Bethany was right anyway. "What happened out there tonight, Bethany?"
Bethany closed her eyes slowly. She didn't want to talk about it now, but she knew she owed Kirsten some kind of explanation. Truthfully, even Bethany wasn't sure what really happened or what it all meant.
"I'm not sure, really. I took a shortcut back through Lowemann's Alley from the supermarket - which I never bought anything anyway because Grace was getting fussy - so I was almost to the car when these three creepy guys came out of nowhere and tried to, I don't know, mug me?" Bethany knew that wasn't the whole truth, but she figured Kirsten didn't need to know that the men had come for Grace.
"And then he saved you?" Kirsten asked as she pointed at Bartleby.
Bethany nodded. "Yeah, he saved me." A faint smile crept across her lips as she dipped the cloth into the bowl of ice-water again and smoothed it down Bartleby's cheek. "Bartleby saved me." Bethany never thought she would hear herself utter those words.
"Bartleby? That's his name? You know him?" Kirsten was full of questions.
Bethany's head ached and she wished she'd never spoken his name aloud. How much more explaining could she do without letting Kirsten in on too much? She never told her friend of the events that took place at a Catholic Church in New Jersey in the not-so-distant past. Kirsten would probably have never believed her anyway. "Yeah," she began, "I know him. I met him about a year and a half ago through some, uh, through some friends of mine. We haven't kept in touch, though and actually, I thought I'd never see him again."
"Wow! And now, somehow, he shows up just in the nick of time to save you! It must be fate or something."
Her hand stilled at the comment. How was it that Bartleby had known where she was? Where had he come from? They told her he was dead. But, the angel laying before her shattered that truth. Bartleby was here, now. //What *are* you doing here?// This time it was Bethany's fingertips that touched his cheek. She got no reaction from him. His only movement or sign of life was the quiet rise and fall of his chest from his breathing. "Yeah, or something," Bethany repeated in a whisper.
Kirsten twisted her finger in her curly red hair as her green eyes sparkled at Bartleby. "He's cute." She grinned.
Bethany shot her friend a wicked stare. "You stay away from him. Do you hear me, Kirsten? I don't want you in this room alone with him. He's not what you think. He's not this great savior or a knight in shining armor that you're making him out to be. He's here now because he's hurt. As soon as he's well, he'll be leaving, so don't get any ideas." Bethany didn't realize the harshness of her rant until she saw Kirsten's hurt expression.
"But, he saved you and Grace, Bethany. If he's as bad as you say, then why would he do that?"
A muffled baby's cry came from the bedroom. Both Kirsten and Bethany looked towards the bedroom door. "Grace," Bethany whispered.
"I'll go." Kirsten started towards the door. "Besides, I better not stay alone here with Bartleby. He looks dangerous and might jump me at any minute," she mocked hurtfully as she walked through the bedroom door.
Bethany sighed and looked down at Bartleby again. He looked so peaceful now, almost like . . . an angel. She shook her head in frustration. "Why *did* you save us, Bartleby? And what the hell is going on?"
^ ^ ^ ^
By: Cricket
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They are either from the Bible or from the incredible imagination of Kevin Smith (except for the characters that you don't recognize – they're mine). Please do not sue. I have no money.
^ ^ ^ ^
The alley was dark and the wind was cold. Dead leaves blew recklessly around the woman's feet as she increased her speed to her car. Bethany Sloan felt disturbance in the air as she cradled her young child in her arms. The alley was empty, but somehow, Bethany did not feel alone. Something was not right tonight. Someone was watching her.
Bethany wiped her long dark-brown locks from her eyes as she hugged her baby tighter to her chest. Everything seemed fine, but something in her gut was telling her to hurry to her car. If she could just get to her car . . .
"Hey, lady? Where are you going in such a hurry?" a deep voice came from the darkness. Bethany's heart jumped into her throat as she froze in her tracks. "We need to talk to you." A large bald-headed, muscled man, draped in a blood red silk shirt, emerged from the shadows. His piercing black eyes bore into Bethany's.
"Look, I don't want any trouble." Bethany retreated a few steps from the man who was now wearing a menacing grin on his face. But, she stopped suddenly when another voice called from the shadows.
"Neither do we. So, if you just hand over the child, quietly, there won't be any trouble."
Bethany's heart raced. //Oh, God,// she thought. But, her fierceness surprised even her. "Over my dead body," she hissed. Bethany's trembling hands betrayed her.
"What's the matter? Are you scared . . . Bethany?"
Her name on a third man's lips sent chills down Bethany's spine. "How – How do you know my name?" she stuttered, cursing her fear.
The three men, all adorned in red silk shirts, all of their hairless heads gleaming in the moonlight, encircled Bethany and her child. "We know all, Bethany," they recited in eerie unison.
"Who are you?"
"We've come for the child," the first man spoke. "We've come for Grace." He took another step towards her.
//How could they know my baby's name? What do they want?// Bethany wracked her brain for answers, but her thoughts were cut when one of the men with the steely eyes caught her arm. She let out an involuntary yelp.
"Please!" It was her last chance, or so she thought.
"Let her go." The words chilled the air like ice. The three men spun around and searched the dark alley for the owner of the livid voice. "I said, Let . . . her . . . go." The words were spoken in a mere whisper, but they rolled through the deserted alleyway like roaring thunder. A shadowy figure appeared in the dim light of a flickering street lamp. All Bethany could make out was a tall shadow of a man wearing a black trench coat and a hood, covering the face of her would-be savior.
The three men chuckled evilly, but moved away from Bethany and began making their way towards the man in the trench coat. She would have let out a sigh of relief, but she didn't dare make a noise. This was not over. Bethany watched as the hooded man took her place as the three ominous men circled him.
"What have we here?" One began with a laugh.
"Someone trying to be a hero, perhaps?" Another chanted.
"Maybe you should mind your own business, man." The third one chimed in.
The man in the trench coat didn't utter a word. He let the looming men tighten their circle around him. His face was still hidden by the hood, but Bethany could see no sign of fear from him. He stood tall and strong; not flinching when one of the men made the first move.
A large fist screamed towards the hooded man's face. But he dodged it with ease and countered with a jab to his attacker's abdomen, sending the man to his knees with a grunt. Bethany feared her eyes had betrayed her as she watched a large baseball bat seem to materialize from thin air into the hands of one of the silk-shirted men. He patted the bat rhythmically into his palm as he eyed his opponent with interest.
"You're out of your league here, boy. You don't know who you're dealing with." The man stopped pacing and faced his opponent directly.
"Don't I?" Came the flat reply from the mysterious, hooded man.
Bethany wanted to run. Grace began to stir in her arms and the last thing she needed right now was for her daughter to start crying. But, for some reason, Bethany could not take her eyes from the hooded man. //Who is he?// She wondered. //And why should he care about saving me?//
All three of the giant menacing men were on their feet again and more enraged than ever. And that's when it started: one of the most terrible fights that Bethany had ever witnessed. The four men became a jumble of blurred images, seeming to move faster than her eyes could follow. Cries of pain from fists meeting flesh echoed through the alley as the men continued to pummel each other. Incredibly, it looked as if the hooded man was gaining the advantage, until that very thought entered Bethany's mind – almost as if it cursed him. Thrown off-guard by dodging a punch from one steely-eyed man, Bethany's savior hurled himself directly in front of the man with the baseball bat...and it was too late for a warning.
The sound the man's flesh made when the bat connected with his ribcage was something Bethany never wanted to hear again. He cried out in agonizing pain as he doubled over, his knees smacking the pavement with a resounding thud. The cackling commenced from his attackers as they stood over him.
"You have failed," one spoke as the laughter subsided. The hooded man did not look up. "Now, show yourself, so we may see who it is we destroy!" Without warning, the steely-eyed man grabbed the hood and ripped it from the fallen man's head. An angelic face looked up in anger. The three men gasped loudly and stumbled backward.
"No," one whispered shakily. "It can't be."
Bethany strained her eyes to see the man's face, but the others were blocking her view. But then a word was uttered that made Bethany gasp just as loudly.
"Angel," the man with the baseball bat whispered; his eyes wide with fear.
The blood red silk-shirted men all retreated a few steps farther as the man in the trench coat began to rise to his feet again. And that's when Bethany saw him. "Oh my God," she whispered lightly enough that only she could hear. Her mind raced as fast as her heart, but her eyes stayed riveted on the man as he shakily stood and faced his attackers. His eyes burned with fury; a fury that Bethany had seen before; a fury she had known all too well. The fury of Bartleby.
But, Bartleby didn't have to say a word. His face said it all and it drove tremendous fear into the three men who, instantaneously, broke into a run for the shelter of the shadows. And they didn't look back. Bartleby watched them until he could no longer feel their presence and then his angry eyes fell and the pain on his face was unmistakable.
Bethany gasped as he finally looked over at her. But, his mannerisms were no longer threatening. He leaned over slightly as he grabbed his chest and winced in pain. He may have been able to fool his attackers, but it was plainly evident to Bethany now: He was badly hurt.
Bartleby chanced one last glance at Bethany and then, no longer able to support his own weight, he stumbled forward and then toppled to the ground.
Bethany's first instinct was to run. She turned in the opposite direction and took one step away......and then stopped. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and cursed under her breath. Bethany couldn't help but think of the last time she saw Bartleby. He had a knife to her throat and was determined to destroy the existence of Earth. She remembered the bloody scene as she and others came upon the Catholic Church to stop the angel from entering. Bartleby was a cold-hearted killer, the likes of which she never thought she see again.
She turned back to look at the heaped body that lay in the middle of the dark alley.
She couldn't help but remember the look in Bartleby's eyes just before he collapsed to the pavement. They weren't the same furious eyes that she had remembered from the past. They were different somehow; soft; weary; sad even. And above everything else, whether Bethany wanted to admit it or not, Bartleby had just saved her life – and not only her life, but Grace's too. She couldn't deny that.
She slowly but steadily walked over to the body on the ground. She knelt at his side and gently touched his pale cheek. He was unconscious. Bethany felt the heat of his increasingly warm flesh. He needed help...*She* needed help. Grace began to stir again and a whimper escaped her lips.
"Shhh," Bethany comforted. "Oh, what am I going to do?" Bethany's voice trembled as she spoke. She was afraid. What if those men came back for Grace now? Bartleby was in no shape to fight them off again. She dug into her purse and retrieved her cell phone. She prayed as she dialed that the phone connection would be strong. She was in the middle of nowhere, after all, and her cell phone never worked half the time anyway. But, faith was on Bethany's side tonight and she sighed with relief as she heard a "hello" on the other end of the line.
^ ^ ^ ^
She gently dabbed at Bartleby's forehead with a cool, damp cloth. Bethany took notice of his wounds that saved her tonight. He sported a rosy-red cheek from a fist that he couldn't escape. She had bandaged his arm which was ripped open as if a tiger's fierce claws had sliced at him. And his ribcage was already black and blue and green and purple from the effects of the baseball bat.
She sat at his side on her sofa and continued to trail the cool washcloth across his forehead and down his neck. He was burning up and the cloth, frequently dipped in ice-water, was the only thing Bethany knew of to help bring his fever down.
She and her roommate, Kirsten, who Bethany had called earlier, brought Bartleby back to their place, stripped him to his T-shirt and boxers, dressed his wounds and laid him snuggly underneath a soft, warm blanket on the couch in the living room. Not once, through the whole ordeal, did he awaken.
Bethany looked him over thoroughly, noticing that his hair was a tad bit longer since she last saw him, just enough to be spiky and disheveled. But, everything else about him she remembered to be the same. His broad shoulders and towering height were as intimidating as ever, but his angelic face completely juxtaposed the fierceness of his body type. To Bethany, Bartleby looked like a helpless child laying beside her right now. A child that could never even hurt a fly. But, Bethany knew, first hand, that looks could be deceiving.
"He doesn't look so good, Bethany. I think he might need a doctor." Kirsten stood above them with a concerned look on her innocent face. Her green eyes stayed transfixed on Bartleby's still body.
"No, a doctor won't be able to help him."
"What do you mean?" Kirsten glanced at Bethany.
"I just know, okay. A doctor won't help. You just have to trust me on this." Bethany spoke firmly, but not angrily. She returned her attention back upon the sleeping Bartleby. "This is all we can do, for now."
Kirsten nodded. She wasn't one to argue with Bethany and besides, most of the time, Bethany was right anyway. "What happened out there tonight, Bethany?"
Bethany closed her eyes slowly. She didn't want to talk about it now, but she knew she owed Kirsten some kind of explanation. Truthfully, even Bethany wasn't sure what really happened or what it all meant.
"I'm not sure, really. I took a shortcut back through Lowemann's Alley from the supermarket - which I never bought anything anyway because Grace was getting fussy - so I was almost to the car when these three creepy guys came out of nowhere and tried to, I don't know, mug me?" Bethany knew that wasn't the whole truth, but she figured Kirsten didn't need to know that the men had come for Grace.
"And then he saved you?" Kirsten asked as she pointed at Bartleby.
Bethany nodded. "Yeah, he saved me." A faint smile crept across her lips as she dipped the cloth into the bowl of ice-water again and smoothed it down Bartleby's cheek. "Bartleby saved me." Bethany never thought she would hear herself utter those words.
"Bartleby? That's his name? You know him?" Kirsten was full of questions.
Bethany's head ached and she wished she'd never spoken his name aloud. How much more explaining could she do without letting Kirsten in on too much? She never told her friend of the events that took place at a Catholic Church in New Jersey in the not-so-distant past. Kirsten would probably have never believed her anyway. "Yeah," she began, "I know him. I met him about a year and a half ago through some, uh, through some friends of mine. We haven't kept in touch, though and actually, I thought I'd never see him again."
"Wow! And now, somehow, he shows up just in the nick of time to save you! It must be fate or something."
Her hand stilled at the comment. How was it that Bartleby had known where she was? Where had he come from? They told her he was dead. But, the angel laying before her shattered that truth. Bartleby was here, now. //What *are* you doing here?// This time it was Bethany's fingertips that touched his cheek. She got no reaction from him. His only movement or sign of life was the quiet rise and fall of his chest from his breathing. "Yeah, or something," Bethany repeated in a whisper.
Kirsten twisted her finger in her curly red hair as her green eyes sparkled at Bartleby. "He's cute." She grinned.
Bethany shot her friend a wicked stare. "You stay away from him. Do you hear me, Kirsten? I don't want you in this room alone with him. He's not what you think. He's not this great savior or a knight in shining armor that you're making him out to be. He's here now because he's hurt. As soon as he's well, he'll be leaving, so don't get any ideas." Bethany didn't realize the harshness of her rant until she saw Kirsten's hurt expression.
"But, he saved you and Grace, Bethany. If he's as bad as you say, then why would he do that?"
A muffled baby's cry came from the bedroom. Both Kirsten and Bethany looked towards the bedroom door. "Grace," Bethany whispered.
"I'll go." Kirsten started towards the door. "Besides, I better not stay alone here with Bartleby. He looks dangerous and might jump me at any minute," she mocked hurtfully as she walked through the bedroom door.
Bethany sighed and looked down at Bartleby again. He looked so peaceful now, almost like . . . an angel. She shook her head in frustration. "Why *did* you save us, Bartleby? And what the hell is going on?"
^ ^ ^ ^