The Sister of the the Order of Saint Amarias's approached Silas, and held a chubby little hand out in greeting.

'Brother Silas?' she asked in a voice so genuinely welcoming Silas wondered if he'd stumbled into Butlins by mistake.

'Sister Florence,' he replied in greeting, matching her warm tone.

I like it here already, he thought happily.

Ok. So he COULD have thrown his Bible in the metaphorical dustbin, given it all up, and turned to a life of sex, drugs and sausage rolls (at least, that's how Silas thought the phrase went, though he'd never been able to figure out what was so sinful about flaky pasty) . But no matter which way he thought about it, there would be God-shaped holes in his life - and so, after much consideration, he'd decided to join an extremely liberal denomination instead of Opus Dei. The one that seemed to suit him best, after some research, was (curiously enough) called 'Saint Amaria's. The name was taken from an obscure Welsh martyr who'd been executed by the Romans in a bathful of mushroom soup.

Admittedly, after the trauma he'd experienced, some would point out to Silas that he might as well just have joined any old church, and beggars shouldn't be choosers - but Silas would have done some pointing right back at them, and it would probably have involved a sharp metal implement. He'd found just the right place that would give him as much freedom or help as he wanted, and he told himself he was going to make a start so fresh and squeaky clean that it would shame a rubber ducky.

He joined the lovely Sister Florence for a chat...

-

'I used to know someone called Amaria,' Silas mused, over generous cups of hot chocolate in the Order's enormous gardens (this denomination apparently didn't find cocoa sinful).

'Really?' said Sister Florence,'What was she like?'

'Uhm,' said Silas, attempting to think of something charitable and failing utterly, 'Well, she IS probably the reason I've ended up here, so she did do SOME good. She...er...she gives the impression she really cares about you,' he managed, which was sort of true.

'And this was an accurate impression?' Sister Florence queried gently, tucking both her short arms into her warm sleeves.

'Well,no...' Silas began, and then blurted out,'She didn't actually care, she was just trying to get into my robes. Which is totally fine, I mean, it's perfectly ok...well, actually, no, it's completely godawful and hideous and sinful and physically revolts every fibre of my being and we'd all have roasted in hell like tortured Dantean pigs for eternity. But apart from that, it's perfectly ok'.

Sister Florence gave him an odd look.

'Was she a Mary-Sue, by any chance?'

'Yes! How did you guess?'

Sister Florence blew gently on her hot chocolate to cool it down, and said with a slightly sheepish smile:

'I, um...used to be one'

'You? You used to be a Mary-Sue! But I thought they just...I don't know...' Silas tailed off in confusion.

'Well, we're as real as the next person, so it's perfectly possible for us to choose not to be Mary-Sues. I certainly don't LOOK like a Mary-Sue anymore,' Sister Florence said, with the tiniest hint of regret twinging at the corners of her voice. But she covered it up with a smile quickly, realising it was a daft thing to say.

Silas could neither agree nor disagree. He was so incurably short-sighted that he couldn't have told the difference between a supermodel and a sausage roll at more than 10 centimetres anyway. From what he could discern, there might have been a good deal of freckles and large dark eyes, but then again, there might not have been. Silas didn't really care. All he knew was that he and Sister Florence were getting along beautifully. And this place was calm.

'You know, most men wouldn't turn down a Mary-Sue,' Sister Florence was saying mischeviously, 'they're very lovely young ladies. As an ex-Mary-sue, I ought to know!'

Silas grinned at her.

'Sister, look at me. Children throw stones at me. Grown adults call me names. I'm not smart, I don't know anything about anything, and life hasn't left me with much sense of humour. Do I look like the right pairing for someone perfect?'

And Sister Florence fell about laughing, choking something about Amaria just having to find herself a Gary-Stu, and spluttering into her hot chocolate. Silas patted her helpfully on the back before she poured the beverage into her lungs. He smiled once more. She was as cuddly as a newborn kitten and every bit as strokably soft, and that, thought Silas as he gazed happily at the blurry pink blob balanced between her shoulders, is just about all the sensory input I would ever want...!

THE END

-

A/N: I am aware that only the stricter denominations of Christianity (not the liberal ones) see any need for monks and nuns...but if you wanted facts and not a pack of lies, you'd be reading basically anything that didn't have 'Da Vinci' and 'Code' in the title. So just give me a little bendy leeway.

Thanks to reviewers: Schemergirl (one says 'hello' strawberrily in much the same way that one says 'hello' gingerly, except a little fruitily instead of spicily. Yeah, I know. Basically b/s. As usual :P ), Kelly Tolkien, flyingfish15, BelleEve, retro00, Bastetgirl, phoenix rising06 and Griffon's Flight. Credits to the name of 'reviewer', all of them!

I don't know if I'll write anything more soon, but if I do, it's likely to be in the Inkheart, Master and Commander, A Knight's Tale or possibly Saw categories. Keep your eyes lightly braised if you're of a mind to be interested :) .