After the Prayer
by Roaming Tigres
Fight No Longer
Author's notes: Please don't tell me to change the pairing or comment on how much it would be better if it was a John/Gabby fic. Just write your own, mmkay?
"Oh my! What sins have you two boys been committing this time?" Father Crowley asked with an exasperated sigh of affection as he tended to the church's garden. He had seen us come up the steps and got up, dusting the dirt off of his pants. Without a doubt upon seeing me, he was planning on getting into the confession box. For some time now, the elder priest had known that I have been going off on the wrong path.
"It's not me this time, Father," I started, with a heavy sigh, rubbing my forehead to help ease a developing headache. "It's Mama. She was -- " I paused, not wanting to retell what had happened to her.
John firmly placed a hand on my shoulder and courteously completed my sentence. "Was involved in a hit-and-run last night."
"So I have heard," Father Crowley said as he clutching the sleeve of my white dress shirt in a gesture of sympathy. "Just so you know, while He may know about your sins and certainly cannot approve of them, He will not turn away from you during this difficult time. Likewise, neither will I and I will say a prayer for both your mother and yourself."
With a polite nod, I left Crowley to tend to the garden and led John inside and took a seat in a middle pew. Simple as the priest's words were, they helped reassure me that there was someone there who was looking out for the big, bad prince of sinners; he who had often neglected his wife's needs and beat up the cable man whom I suspected was cheating on her. Later, I would find out that the man was gay. Dear Lord, please watch over Mama. She may be a strong woman, but she can't go into this battle to survive all on her own. Maybe it sounds pathetic, maybe selfish or even both, but . . . I still need her. I need her validity, her . . . Protection, her guidance, her strength. Let her wake from her coma and recover. When it is her time to go with you, let her pass on from a natural cause. Please don't let the foolish actions of another tear her away from her most beloved and only son.
" . . . Amen." Slowly my compact form lurched forward a little way as I felt the lump in my throat had come back to me with a vengeance. I clenched my teeth and swallowed hard as I tried to choke it off, but I only succeeded in doing exactly what I absolutely did not want to do and quickly covered my face with my hands.
Oh, don't let him see you cry, Carlos, don't let him see you cry. He'll run off and tell his friends at school that Wisteria Lane's bitchy bearded businessman was crying over his mommy. Now that you've got what you wanted from him, thank John and send him on his way. Remember, you're above letting yourself be humiliated. I was at crosswords; I wanted to be with John and to tell him exactly how I felt for him, but at the same time I didn't want him to see me in the state of collapse.
"Mr. Solis . . . ?" John asked as he rested a hand on the back of my neck when he heard a stifled cry. "Just let it out. Believe me, it'll make you feel better. I know it's tough to show how you feel, being a guy and all, but -- "
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" I shouted so loudly that it was surprising that Father Crowley didn't come running in to see what the matter was. As so the old guy wouldn't suspect a thing, I lowered my voice but remained in a blindedly angry state.
"What the hell did I do!" John gasped, throwing his hands back defensively as he moved away from me.
"I-I'm a man!" I stuttered angrily, clutching the bible that was beside me and violently throwing it at him as he recoiled. "I can't just cry and 'let it all out' -- I just can't! Don't you get that, stupid boy? Just leave me alone. I don't need you!"
"Alright, I get it. This is what I get back for trying to help you, right?" He asked furiously, turning his back to leave and give me the solitude I had demanded.
"It's nice to know your way of showing gratitude is by acting like a complete jerk and shoving away the people who care about you."I could have smacked him right there and then, but thankfully for him, my outburst -- short lived as it was -- had mentally worn me out and I collapsed back into the pew.
Tears that had been stored up inside of me for only God knows how long trickled down my high cheek bones. As my vulnerability came out of the woodwork at full-force, I could fight them no longer. It felt as if the woman who had protected me from a brutal beating by my drunken father had already left me, all alone with no place and nobody to turn to. The one person whom I thought was going to be by my side during this difficult time was running away from me, and I could only blame one person for it. That person was me.
How stupid could you be? John wants to help you and this is how you treated him in return?
With my body in a defeated, crumpled heap that threatened to fall off the pew, I watched forlornly as John placed his hand on the door handle and quietly called out his name.
"What?" John asked, raising a neatly-trimmed eyebrow as he turned around to face me.
"I don't want you to leave me."
Like an abused dog crawling back to its owner after being beaten, John decided to come back and do what he can to console me even after my bible-throwing temper tantrum. There was no doubt he expected me to lash out at him and this time he was he was ready. I don't deny the fact that I can be a frustratingly difficult person; I can be insanely self-absorbed and stubborn, and when I don't immediately get exactly what I want, I nag, I demand, I bully. Any of that would be enough for anyone to drive anyone away. For him to put up with me, though, I couldn't turn John away from me.
"I'm sorry, I . . . I just don't want her to die . . . " As John sat back down next to me, I looked up at him, trembling. There was much I had to say, but I spoke not another word as he stroked my jet-black wavy hair.
"You know what, though? I think she'd be proud to know that her son was so affected by what happened to her that he cried." Once bitten, twice shy, John spoke with an edge of fear to his voice. I could tell he didn't know what to say or how to say it. "You mean well," I said quietly, staring blankly at the stained glass image of Jesus as I felt the sun warm my weary face. "It's just that . . . It's just more complicated than that. Mama wants me to live up to her expectations -- " I became quiet again as the young gardener's hand rested on top of mine and gave it a light squeeze.
Without intending to, John had hit another sore spot of mine; my insecurity. "Nobody loves you like your mother does."
"That's the truth . . . " I said under my breath as I straightened my posture. I absentmindedly leaned into John's shoulder as my body shifted to the side, thanks to the pew's wood polish.
"I'm sorry -- "
I shook my head furiously, just wanting to just let it pass. "No, no, it's true."
"Oh? Well . . . You don't think Mrs. Solis loves you?" John awkwardly asked, not sure of what to make of the forty something man leaning against him in intimately close contact. Still, he made no effort to get away.
"I love Gabrielle -- love her to death -- but I just can't help but to feel that she has any sort of feelings for me. She tells me otherwise, but somehow, I just can't believe her." It pained me to explain that.
"How could she not love you?" John whispered as he reached his arm around and softly wiped away a tear with his thumb. "I know the reason you hired me instead of Mr. Kravitz who had all that landscaping experience in England's Kew Gardens, and . . . Honestly? I don't mind."
"Thank you . . . "
More tears made their way down my face, but these were tears of happiness and for the first time in what seemed to be years, I smiled. How John had found out about my scandalous little secret was anyone's guess, but I chose not to think too much into it. All that mattered was, that as rejection had been my greatest fear for as long as I could remember, I knew I had to repay John in some form another for the loyalty and acceptance he had bestowed upon me -- and knew just what to give him in return.
The characters John Lowland, Father Crawly and Carlos Solis are © ABC/Touchstone Television.