Forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those who trespass against us
Give us this day our daily bread
Daily bread, daily bread

Their prayers hung in the air, words without answer, words without meaning to her spoken in a place she was a stranger to.

In cello et in terra fiat voluntas tua Gloria spiritui sancto

She walked among them, neither a Shepard nor a part of their flock. They didn't notice her as they wrapped themselves in the comfort of knowing that a person they couldn't see was going to make their lives right, was going to heal their pain. Expecting nothing, wanting something, she walked further. Her eyes were fixed ahead, staring at the person that stood upon the altar. Those eyes, they looked at her with almost a tinge of sadness. As she looked at them she could see understanding in those eyes, a need to show strength and yet show weakness as she held a tiny babe in her arms. Whoever had crafted her had spent a lot of time and love on her.

What language do you speak
If you speak at all?
Are you some kind of freak
Who lives to raise the ones that fall?

She had so many questions but no answers. She didn't know where to find the answers to the questions spinning in her mind.

And if our fates have all been wrapped around your finger
And if you wrote the script then why the troublemakers?

Standing now in front of it she wondered if she could reach out, to touch that shining face. It seemed to communicate to her that it was here that she could find answers and unload all of her troubles.

How do you do?
How does feel to be so high
And are you happy?
Do you ever cry?

She was hopeless, helpless, lost in a world of uncertainty where pain was a constant factor in her life. She wondered if this was a place that could take her pain away.

Hey, do you feel our pain
And walk in our shoes?
Do you ever feel starved
Or is your belly always full?

Anger marred her features as she tried to reason where these thoughts were coming from, where they were leading her to. She had always believed in herself, to her there was nothing else. Looking at this object in front of her she wondered if it had any feelings at all and if it did; did it know what it was responsible for?

How many people die
And hurt in your name?
Hey, does it make you proud
Or does it bring you shame?

Closing her eyes for a moment she began to turn away when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. Reaching out she could sense that this was a stranger, a person with good intentions but almost unsure how to present them. Turning her head she looked into the face of this stranger, his eyes matched his intentions but there was something that his face conveyed that made her wary. He knew her.

"I'm Father Eric O'Mara. Forgive my impudence but I believe that I may have spoken with a friend of yours, a rather large Spanish gentleman." The man said with a strong Irish accent.

Robyn looked surprised.

"Don't be alarmed, he never mentioned your name nor did he tell me what happened to you. He only said that you had been attacked and that he had been too late to help you. I've been expecting you, did he tell you about his visit here?"

Shaking her head, Robyn replied, "No, I knew that he'd come here though. The last weeks have been a blur. A lot has been going on."

"Would you care to talk about it? If not to me as a priest than as a person, I know it is hard to believe but underneath this garb and outside of the church I am a person like you. Whichever suits you, my ears are always open."

"It's a nice offer but I have a friend waiting outside, we're not meant to here. The people protecting us still think we're at our hotel."

Father O'Mara nodded, "I see. Perhaps I should return you there then. Let me go to the vestry and get my coat, if you'd like to wait with your friend I'll be out in a few minutes."

Before Robyn even had time to object the priest was gone. Shrugging to no one she left the building through the main entrance. She spotted Kit sitting on the grass a few metres away from her and joined him. He smiled at her when he noticed her presence and kissed her. With one of his hands he absently played with the ring on his finger. It was only when he heard a short giggle that he noticed she was still there.

"What?" He asked with little irritation.

"That's not been on there five minutes and you can't leave it alone."

Kit smiled sheepishly, "Believe me. I don't regret doing what I did. It wasn't a spur of the moment or a 'we're going to die so let's get it over and done with' thing. It was a 'I love you so much I'd cut my own head off if it made you happy' sort of thing but somehow it doesn't feel like it happened."

"I know what you mean, it gets me sometimes. I guess it wasn't the conventional method of getting married. I don't regret it either." Robyn paused and smiled slightly, "I love you too but not so much that I'd cut my own head off but I would love to see you cut your own head off, that would be kind of cool."

Kit laughed and pushed Robyn over playfully. It made him feel good to see her in good spirits but he knew her well enough to know that it was all for show. Sometimes he wished that she wouldn't do it, it was just a way of pushing her problems aside and letting them grow until she couldn't contain them any longer and she fell apart. He wanted to find a way to open that chest she kept inside her, that box where she put all of her troubles in but he knew she would thwart him at every turn.

All he could do was to wait for that box to burst at the seams and soothe her pains as he always did.

AN: The song was 'how do you do?' by Shakira.