Hello everybody who might have stumbled upon this.
If you're here because of Fleabag, hurray, I'm appreciating every single fellow fan of this amazing show! If you're here because you know my other fics, welcome back, I was hoping to find some fans upon you, as well...
Anyway, who didn't simply adoooore the Priest in season two? It broke my heart when the show ended. But what do we do then? Fix-it fics!
Watching the second season I always had a thought that seemed me to be quite an interesting interpretation, so I included it in this Oneshot and just hope that I managed to put it to practice the way I imagined and that you'll like my spin on it.
If you'd let me know your thoughts about whatever, I'd be very very grateful!
o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o
"It will pass", the Priest said and she nodded. That was what the Bible said. It came to pass. It had come. Oh, and how it had. It could also go by. Maybe it would. For her. He said it to make himself believe that it would work for him too. He knew that it wouldn't.
He had to look away from her. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to withdraw his hand from hers, her fingers gliding out of his grip that had them entwined like threads in one and the same cloth. Carved from the same wood, it shot through his head. He shook it. Ridiculous thought.
"See you Sunday?", he said as if to show himself how not alike they really were. She looked out of place in a church. She was certainly out of place in his church. "I'm joking, you're never ever allowed in my church again", he added just to be sure. She laughed sadly. God, that laugh.
"I love you too." Probably not the right thing to say. Certainly not the wisest thing to say. Impossible for him not to say it at all. She nodded again and watched him finally turning around, leaving the bus station. And her life.
God sighed in frustration. This would not do, as far as He was concerned.
This stupid free will thing, sometimes He could have cursed Himself for that idea. Or rather them for taking it so wrong.
They had been made for each other. He should know, He had been the one to create them, after all. How should He have foreseen that the Priest would decide to become, well, a priest?
Yes, yes, almighty and everything. But the free will, again. Getting in the way of His plans. Not that He didn't like the fact that the Priest had chosen this profession. He was a good one. And He had few enough of those. This priest was kind, loving and genuinely concerned about people. He had the rare quality to try and love everyone around him, except for the one person that had always been meant to be loved by him.
He did what He always did when it came to the Priest.
The paws made no sound on the pavement as He came to pass the bus stop she waited at. He threw a quick glance at her, already pricking his ears for the Priest's vanishing footsteps.
"He went that way."
He knew, but it was nice of her to tell Him anyway. She would have been surprised if she knew how much He knew about her because she had told Him. Sure, He would have known either way, but He had always prefered to be told of their own accord. It was so much more intimate.
She would hopefully keep waiting until He had managed to make the Priest return. Couldn't do any harm to help a bit out, though.
He found him on a bench in the park, leaned forward, head in his hands. Why did men always tend to make themselves so unhappy? It broke His heart.
The fox crawled under a bush, watching as the Priest got up, pacing up and down, restless.
"It's better that way. It was the right thing to do", he muttered to himself, trying to persuade his own heart. "It was. But then why doesn't it feel right?" He put the last question to the sky, lifting his hands in a gesture of desperation and a cry for help. Help and answers. Was choosing God the right or the easy way?
"I remember everything you taught me. Every book I ever read...So why did you do this?", the Priest asked Him, sighed.
I haven't, thought the fox.
"Why couldn't you make her stay away? Why didn't you keep me from loving her? Why did you allow my heart to betray you?"
It hasn't. I didn't. Because that's not how it works. He didn't hear Him. The fox didn't wonder at it. His own thoughts were too loud in his head.
"I don't-...I don't understand", said the Priest, exhausted, head hung low, eyes on the ground. "It just...doesn't make sense."
It does, said He and the Priest suddenly straightened. It's right. She's right.
"Was that-?" The Priest looked around himself, confused, searching for the source of the sound. No one there. He hesitated. Threw a glance to the sky again. Then the expression of uncertainty melted into a wry grin. "No. Nonononono." He scoldingly lifted his index finger to a culprit that wasn't there. "I know what this- This is not- No, no, no." He laughed disbelievingly. "I won't fall for that", he said then. The fox knew that he meant well.
Men were idiots, sometimes. He loved them, but they could be really stupid. Celibacy. Who had come up with that, anyway? Weren't priests supposed to spread His word? And at the core of that was... Love, for God's sake! (It was okay, He could be blasphemous Himself if He wanted to.)
Love each other, His son had died to tell them. And somehow, a catholic someone had managed to think it a good idea that priests maybe shouldn't live what they preached. He would have buried His face in His hands if He'd had the right body just now. Instead, the fox in the bush struck with its tail. And regretted it the next second.
The Priest looked in his direction, his alarmed eyes an inch away from where He was sitting in the dark.
"Not those blasted foxes again", he muttered and despite the situation, He couldn't suppress a smirk. Well, as far as foxes were able to smirk. He probably shouldn't torture his loyal servant like this, but He was just tired of always watching from the same angle. Animals brought new perspectives. (And He must be allowed a bit of fun from time to time, too.)
Right now though, He wished that He hadn't caused the Priest his fox-trauma. Or that He hadn't come as one, just this one time, for the Priest quickly summoned his bag from the bench, his eyes suspiciously darting to the bush every other second, and made his way away from Him and to his church. How Ironic.
Wrong direction, He wanted to scream. But He just sighed. Free will.
When the fox returned to the bus stop, she was gone, too. He looked at the information board. Cancelled. Maybe He had meant too well in making her wait.
o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o
They ran into each other three days later. It was in the street, during her lunch break. They recognized each other too late. No chance to avoid their paths crossing. Perfect.
"Hey."
"Hi." Too happy. Put on.
"That didn't take long", the Priest detected, struggling to decide what to do with himself, his hands, his eyes, his words.
"I wasn't stalking you", he said then with an uncomfortable laugh and He moaned in resignation. "I just needed something. From the store." She nodded, just as uneasy.
"Never thought you were."
"Oh, good." He grinned wryly, the way that made shivers running down her spine.
Screw it, she said to Him.
The Priest didn't notice, had lowered his eyes to the ground. "Just- Because your café is in the same street and-", he said then, trailed off, fully aware that he was babbling. "You know what? Never mind."
She smiled a bit awkwardly, but damn, that smile. Even this uncomfortable one. It did things to him, still. He shoved the thought away. Far, far back in his head.
"How are you?", he asked, immediately thinking better of it. Idiot.
"I'm sorry. You don't need to answer that."
"No no. It's okay", she replied. Far too eager. "I'm fine. I'm perfectly...fine."
I'm not, she said to Him.
She's not, thought He.
"That's...good", said the Priest. Wow. Thoughtful answer. "I- ehm, H-How's Hillary?"
"Oh. Good, she's-... She misses you", it slipped from her lips. She grasped for the words, but couldn't pull them back.
I'm not talking about the guinea pig, she told Him. Of course He knew. And maybe so did he.
"Does she." The Priest smiled again and she felt herself melt.
Fuck. She nodded, trying to keep her breathing under control.
"Is the café going well?"
"Yes", she replied, thrilled and still surprised herself that it really was. "Yes, it is, actually."
"Good." There was that sparkle in her eyes. The one when she spoke about things she loved. Not that many, admittedly, but-
"And the church?", she enquired.
"What?" Boy, he needed to concentrate.
"Is everything fine in the church?"
"Oh. Yes." He figuratively pointed above. "Yes, of course. We're in the best hands, after all."
Still a priest, she detected to Him with a sigh.
"All the paintings hanging again", she guessed. He laughed and she cursed the goosebumps.
"Yeah."
o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o
The next time it happened it was three weeks. Short encounter. Thank God. (God ground his teeth, actually.)
"It's not gonna stop, is it?", she said. He seemed startled.
"Sorry?"
"Oh, I meant us running into each other."
No, I didn't, she said to Him.
"Apparently not", replied the Priest, uncomfortably running his hand through his hair, rubbing his neck.
His neck...
"It's a...a small town."
"Yeah." (No, it wasn't.)
"Only this one place to get my vestments, so..."
"Ah, yes, I forgot."
I didn't. She had passed on purpose. I self-sabotage.
"I'll try to steer clear of it in the future", she said. The Priest's eyes widened.
"Oh nono, I didn't mean you must-"
"It's alright", she interrupted. "I don't mind."
"Okay..."
Silence. Awkward. The noise of the street seemed to grow louder in her ears as the seconds went by. She slightly shifted on her feet, pressed her lips together. He tried not to stare at them.
"Maybe I should...-" She pointed down the street, prayed that he wouldn't have to take the same way. Or that he would. Dammit.
She wanted to make move to try and find a way past him, but was blocked by the flow of people busy living their lives, unaware of the two souls in their midst that couldn't.
"I-" She turned around and he broke off, looked at her with those eyes. She felt her feet frozen to the ground, pinned there by his gaze.
It will pass, his voice echoed in her ears.
Liar.
"It wasn't so much fun", he said. "Choosing it without you."
Choosing life without you.
o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o
The third time was after three months. Must be their number. Interesting that it's mentioned so often in the Bible, the Priest found himself thinking and shook his head at the ridiculousness. Coincidence.
Is it?, He thought.
"Me again", he says in clearly pretended light-heartedness.
"Yeah. Hey."
"I haven't seen you here before."
"Well no, it's not my usual store."
"Mine neither", the Priest admitted.
I know. I went here to avoid him, she told Him and He smirked. He knew, too, of course. He'd given him the same idea.
Then again, silence. Still uncomfortable. Not much more than conversing, though. Or rather pretend to.
"Can I- Would you like me to help you with that?", he suddenly said unexpectedly, pointing to the bag in her hand. He had none, just a bottle of water and an apple. Hers was filled with chocolate, chips and vodka.
Fucking Saint. God smiled at the thought of the Priest's nearly empty bottle of Brandy in his office. She remembered, too. She knew that he drank. They had dunk together, had been drunk together. But of course he had to be the obedient little priest in public.
He still looked at her, questioning. She screw her face doubtfully.
"I don't think that's a good-"
"Come on", he interrupted, calm and friendly, the damned helpfulness in person. "It won't hurt if I bring one of your bags to your car. It's not as if that'd be prohibited."
She cast Him a disbelieving Too late to be concerned about that-look.
"I-"
"Please", he said. "Let me help you."
You can't, she thought.
He can, thought He.
She swallowed.
"Okay."
The way was too short. They didn't talk. She opened the trunk and he put the bag inside.
When he looked up, he opened his mouth, but lost the words. They were blown away by something in her face or maybe all of it. He closed it again, lowered his eyes.
"Did you..?", she asked hesitantly. Curious. Hopeful? "Did you just want to say something?"
He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to tell her what to wear in the morning. Every morning. He wanted to tell her who to vote for and what to cook and what car to drive and what to watch on TV. He wanted to tell her what to do when she didn't know and who to love when she felt lost. He wanted to help her to find out how to live. He wanted to tell her not to be scared.
But he didn't say any of those things. Of course not. Instead, he just smiled.
"No", he said. "It's just been good to see you."
o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o
He came in her café the next day. He hadn't planned to. He had gone for a walk and suddenly found himself there, in her street, in front of her door. He threw a glance at the blue sky above. The shining sun on a cloudless day seemed to mock him with the happiness it radiated.
If this is a joke to you, it's not funny, he silently told Him as he entered.
"Why are you here?" Well, she didn't waste time, for sure.
"I wanted to see how you're doing", he said. Truthful? Maybe. He couldn't tell what had brought him. He could hardly say it had been God.
"Well, thank you very much, Father", she replied, sweetly accentuated. "But maybe you should offer your comfort and guidance to someone who cares."
"Please don't call me Father." It annoyed her that he was so calm. If he was, she wanted to be, too. But she was burning from inside out. Every time she laid eyes on him. Still.
Running into each other by chance, well. But the pure nerve he had to come...like, what the hell?
"Why?", she challenged. "Because it turns me on?"
"It's too intimate." She was startled. He was right, it was. Strange. It wasn't even his name, just a title. Everybody used it. And yet, he was right.
"Ever occurred to you that to avoid that you shouldn't have come at all?" His relaxed face didn't even twitch.
"Are you angry with me?"
"Angry?"
"Yes."
"I'm not angry", she said, sounding quite angry. "I just don't understand. Why would you tell me to stay away from you, say that I'm never allowed in your church again, and when I do, it's you who turns up in my café?" She gestured to him uncomprehendingly. "You're here and I can't- I can't even look at you without...feeling how it pulls me back towards you", she told him, an expression of utter despair on her face. "And I can't have that. I-I can't, okay? I won't allow you to capture me again only to be told once more that it's God and not me. And I don't get it", she said with a desperate little laugh that drove in his heart like a splinter. "Honestly, I don't. Maybe you can explain it to me, why you would devote your life to a God that tells you to love everyone except me."
God was glad he had hands to clap right now. Of course it was her. Of course it was her, who claimed to be an atheist, that finally spread the truth in front of his eyes. He loved that kind of ironies.
"Well, fuck", said the Priest.
I'm doomed, he thought. Doomed to love her. Doomed to suffer. In hell if I do and on earth if I don't.
Was it an option? Not to? He had tried. And how he had tried. But she beset him, the thought of her following him wherever he went, even in his church, that was the last place that should have been occupied by her presence - physically or mentally. She robbed him of his sleep, the peaceful tranquillity and satisfaction of his days and work.
He thought that he had found the fulfilment he saught the day he had first put on a vestment. And yes, it had made him happy, church and service and belief. He hadn't been aware that he was missing something until he found it.
Damn, he wished he hadn't.
No, you don't, He thought.
No, I don't, thought the Priest.
It would make everything so much easier if he had never met her. If she had never come to visit him in his church, never drank G&T with him, never caused paintings to fall from the walls.
His life would be easier. And his world a little less bright.
"Why are you here?", she repeated. Calmer. Smiling. Exhausted.
"I don't know." He did. He didn't. He didn't know if he knew.
"I do." She watched how his eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"You clearly came to visit Hillary." He laughed. Oh, how she always managed to make him laugh.
The sound sent little pleasant shivers through her body.
No. Fucking. Way. She gave Him an enervated look.
They said that time's supposed to heal you. Damn. Didn't work. At all.
"She has a sister now", she went on. "Stephanie. She's a hamster. Long story", she added at his questioning gaze, his eyes sparkling in amusement. Nope. Clearly didn't work.
"Anyway, it seems guinea pigs aren't made to be alone."
Again, not talking about the guinea pigs, she said to Him.
"There again!", the Priest suddenly burst out. "You're doing your thing again! I noticed every time we met. Where the fuck are you going?"
God chuckled. It was worth having a mouth for that. He would have liked to see her if she ever understood who she was talking to. Maybe she would through him. The Priest had studied, tried to hear His voice as often as he could. He had gotten quite good at it. Not perfect, of course, otherwise he must have heard Him when He practically screamed Idiot after him all the times he turned his back on her. Still, it was no wonder that he sensed when she was talking to Him, too.
"I still don't know what you mean", she said with a nervous laugh, throwing another disbelieving glance at Him.
"And again!", he exclaimed, pointing to where her gaze had been directed.
"I have no idea what you're doing there or how you're doing it, but it's driving me crazy!" He gestured around desperately, trying to grasp whatever there was to find and understand.
"It's- You're..."
Everything about her drove him crazy. Her eyes, her smile, her laugh, her voice. The scent of her hair when she was too close. Every accidental (or deliberate) brush of her fingertips. The silly, stupid, strange...thing that she did. Everything that was so impossibly and uniquely her.
Everything that was staring at him now, silently screaming at him, begging him without saying a word.
"Oh, fuck it."
And then his lips were on hers and he was in heaven once more. Maybe an afterlife in hell wouldn't be so bad if he could just have heaven on earth instead.
The next time she was able to produce a single clear thought she was pressed against the wall in the back room, both panting for air. His hair was dishevelled from her hands roaming through the strands, searching for hold. His lips a bit swollen, red where she had lost control and bitten down. One of his arms was around her waist, the other leaned against the wall beside her head. God, she had always had a thing for his arms.
"It didn't pass", she said. It wasn't a question.
"No."
"And it won't."
"No."
"You knew it wouldn't."
"Yes." She took a deep breath.
"Well, fuck you, then." He couldn't help grinning.
"Fuck, I missed you", he breathed and kissed her again.
"What about God, though?", she asked when they parted.
"If God didn't want this, he shouldn't have made my heart so full of fucking love for you."
"So it's not him, anymore?"
"It is", he said, no hesitation. "But it's also you." She looked confused, her brain muddled by him, his words, his smile, his closeness, the feeling of his lips on hers.
"Can't I love you equally?", he wanted to know.
Can he?, she asked Him.
"I don't know", she said. "Can you?"
Yes, said He.
"I can", said the Priest. Then he grinned. It was infectious, that grin.
"What?" She grinned, too.
"Maybe I should consider converting to Protestantism."