A/N: I want to thank Starrylizard for a quick beta. Any and all mistakes left are my own:) I hope you'll enjoy this next chapter.
Marcus heard the door to the bathroom open, but Tomas didn't reappear in the bedroom. Instead there were sounds of clinking coming from the kitchen. Frowning in puzzlement, Marcus followed the sounds, only to find Tomas rummaging through the cupboards and putting on a kettle.
Marcus leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms, looking on, perplexed.
"What on earth are you doing?" he asked after a moment, just as Tomas found what he was looking for.
"Coffee. You want some too?"
"At 3 in the morning?"
"It's almost four. I usually go for a run by five," Tomas answered, holding out an empty cup questioningly. Seeing the look of reproach on Marcus' face, he just shrugged and focused on filling his own cup.
"You slept for barely three hours and you are concussed. I don't think coffee and running is on your itinerary today," Marcus said, pushing himself away from the door. He crossed the space between them and pulled the cup of coffee away from Tomas.
"What're you doing?" Tomas asked, flabbergasted and Marcus rolled his eyes before pouring the coffee down the drain.
"Hey!"
"Get a tea, for all I care. But I won't have you running around sleep deprived and hopped on caffeine."
"What on earth are you talking about? I've slept all night."
"Oh please," Marcus snorted at the ridiculous statement. "It is still the middle of the night."
"Then go back to sleep and leave me the hell alone!" Tomas hissed and Marcus paused, only now noticing the slight shaking of the younger man's hands and the scrunched up forehead.
He stayed silent, only his eyebrows rising in a mute challenge. Tomas looked at him, his own eyes clouded with shame and something that was very similar to fear. Finally he forced out a breath and shook his head.
"I'm sorry. That was... uncalled for."
"What are you afraid of seeing when you close your eyes, Tomas?" Marcus asked, his voice soft but the words clear and loud like a bullet piercing the air.
"I'm not-" afraid, Tomas wanted to say, but realized it would be a lie. On suddenly shaky legs he made it to the couch and sat down, burying his head in his arms. Marcus sat down next to him, waiting in silence.
After a moment, Tomas muttered something but Marcus didn't understand.
"What was that?"
"I'm afraid that I won't recognize the truth," Tomas repeated, straightening from his hunched position. "I'm afraid I'll be wrong again and someone will get killed."
"You can't afford to trust these visions unreservedly," Marcus said in agreement.
"But I can't afford to ignore them either," Tomas protested. "Whatever your opinion on that, the visions led me to you." Tomas paused, maybe waiting for Marcus to once again say that was a mistake, but Marcus just looked him straight in the eyes, unblinking. A little bit appeased, Tomas continued.
"They helped us save the Rance family and Cindy as well. I don't know why I was wrong with Harper, maybe..." Tomas shook his head, frustrated. "Maybe I just interpreted the vision wrong."
"Or maybe it didn't come from God." Marcus spoke softly and Tomas grit his teeth in frustration.
"Don't you see, Marcus? I have to... I need to believe these visions are from Him. The alternative..." Tomas' voice broke and Marcus knew what he meant to say but couldn't. So he said it for him.
"The alternative is that you're being manipulated by something much darker."
"I can't stop them, Marcus." And wasn't that the biggest problem? "If these visions aren't from God, then I'm compromised. I don't know how to deal with that." There was such anguish in his voice that Marcus had to reach out and give Tomas' shoulder a supportive squeeze.
"We'll figure it out, Tomas."
'God might've abandoned me, but I won't do the same to you,' Marcus thought silently.
"Did you have a vision tonight, or was it just a nightmare?" he asked instead.
Tomas sighed and shrugged.
"I'm not sure anymore," he admitted. "Right now, my thoughts are all over the place. I saw Cindy's Church, then the girl without a face..." Tomas frowned, thinking about the dream and looking frustrated. "I can't put my finger on it. I was sure that girl was Harper, but now... I don't think it's her. And when I had the vision from Cindy, there was this woman rising from the mud... I don't recognize her either. It's like..." Tomas huffed, shaking his head then looking up at Marcus frustrated. "It's like pieces from several different puzzles got all mixed up. It's driving me mad, not knowing what the final picture is supposed to look like."
"There's no guarantee you'll ever get the whole picture, Tomas. God works-"
"-in mysterious ways, I know," Tomas finished the sentence, glad that Marcus didn't use the opportunity for another lecture. He wasn't sure he could take it right now. They sat in amenable silence for a while and Tomas's eyes started to close of their own volition. A fleeting image of a terrified Harper appeared in front of his eyes and Tomas's eyes snapped open, his body all tense.
Marcus was watching him closely, hoping he might fall asleep. Seeing his reaction though he realized it wouldn't be that easy, so he changed tactics.
"Ever since we met, I was wondering," Marcus started and Tomas looked up, curious. "How can you tell the difference between a dream and a vision? I know it's different when you... connect. But when you sleep?"
Tomas noted the pause, but decided to ignore it in favor of answering the real question.
"It just... feels different. More real." Biting his lip, Tomas gave a frustrated shake of head. "It's hard to explain."
"Please, humor me," Marcus said with a grin and made himself more comfortable on the couch, reminding Tomas of a cat. Yet where a cat would ignore him, Tomas had all of the man's attention focused directly on him. Strangely, what would otherwise make him feel self-conscious and nervous, now just made him feel a little bit safer and less shaky.
"When I saw you, in Mexico... I felt everything. The smell of that stuffy room, the rotting meat, felt the sweltering heat. All my senses worked and I could see every detail..." Tomas spoke, his accent getting thicker, breathing faster. Marcus tensed, not wanting to be reminded of his failings, not so soon after emerging from his own nightmares. He put a hand on Tomas's arm, pulling him back to reality. Tomas blinked and looked at him, his face paler than before.
"S-sorry. I didn't think this through."
"It's okay. Go on."
"I was just trying to say... nightmares are different. They're more distorted; I can't really control what I am doing in them." And that was it, Tomas realized. "In visions I'm in full control of myself. It's like... in dreams, you're watching a movie. In visions, you're more of a director, but the only thing you can direct is yourself."
Tomas was quiet for a moment, thinking about his answer.
"Is there a difference when you wake up?"
"What do you mean?"
Marcus shrugged.
"I don't know, you tell me. Do you feel different when you wake up from a vision instead of a dream?"
It was Tomas' turn to shrug.
"I don't think so. More anxious, maybe. Depends on how bad the vision is?"
"And what about when you connect? What's the difference?"
"Why all the questions?" Tomas asked, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope. It didn't help that Marcus kept looking at him as if he might sprout another head any moment.
"I just want to know what to expect," Marcus said easily. "I want to know if I can let you get behind the wheel without you zoning out. I want to know if, after a vision, you're still 100 percent and ready to do the job, or if you need to regroup." Marcus changed position and was now leaning dangerously close to Tomas, giving him an intense look. "And I really want to know what letting a demon inside your mind does to you."
Tomas froze as if hypnotized, then seemed to shake it off. He gave Marcus an unconvincing smile then stood up.
"It does nothing to me. I'm fine. Well, except for the splitting headache, but... that's the hammer." Tomas rubbed the bridge of his nose and faked a yawn. "Think I'll try and go back to sleep." He started towards the room but Marcus grabbed his arm, trying to stop him. Normally Tomas would've just pulled away and gone to bed, but his head was already spinning and the sudden pull unbalanced him. He staggered and would've fallen but Marcus maneuvered him back down to the couch.
"Sit," Marcus said commandingly, though unnecessarily. Tomas was already sitting; eyes clenched shut in an attempt to stave off the nausea. With a groan, he leaned forward and rested his head in his hands.
"Sorry for that," Marcus muttered, one hand running soothingly over Tomas's neck. "Just wanted us to finish the conversation, but hadn't thought it through."
"Think I'm about finished," Tomas mumbled pitifully and heard Marcus chuckle.
"Far from it my lad. You're just a bit beaten up." With that, the hand left Tomas' neck, which he noted with some disappointment. It was helping him to stay grounded. Without the connection the world just became a dizzy mess. Opening his eyes didn't help either and when Marcus moved away it was Tomas who grabbed at him, trying to center himself.
"Tomas? You alright?" A worried glance and a finger lifting up his chin and Tomas could only swallow in reply. Marcus realized the problem and put a steadying hand on Tomas' shoulder, giving him a minute.
"Deep, slow breaths should help," he said and Tomas tried.
"Hey, I said slow breaths, not to stop breathing altogether," Marcus reproached, earning a snort in reply and a whooshing sound of air.
"You're bossy," Tomas muttered after a moment and Marcus chuckled.
"As long as it works. Okay, why don't you lie back on the couch? Until you get back your sea legs."
"I don't think moving is advisable," Tomas protested but Marcus was already pushing him down. Tomas wasn't really in a position to do anything about it. His balance was shot to hell and in the end he was glad to be lying down, blessedly still.
"I'll remember this next time you get drunk," he muttered without much strength, getting an amused chuckle.
"I doubt you'll remember it in the morning," Marcus replied cheekily. Tomas felt too tired to argue the point, he was right anyway.
Marcus started rummaging through the kitchen just as Tomas had done earlier. Tomas wanted to look at what he was doing, or at least ask him to stop moving around so much because it was making his headache worse. That, however, would require moving from the comfortable position on the couch and risk further upset to his stomach. Knowing that curiosity killed the cat, Tomas instead tried to focus on the furniture of the motel, looking at the cracks on the table.
"I doubt you're hungry, but you should eat something before taking the meds." Marcus was back and the reason for his previous movement was clear. He was holding a plate of toast and cheese in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Tomas frowned at the idea of food.
"I'll pass thanks."
Marcus shrugged and put the plate and the glass on the table, within Tomas' reach. Two pills appeared a minute later.
"Do you feel like chatting or you want to try and sleep?"
Frankly, none of the options sounded so good to Tomas. He wasn't planning on sleeping anytime soon, not if he had anything to say about it. While he knew he and Marcus needed to clear some things up and all the questions he asked were valid in their current situation, Tomas didn't feel up to answering them. Mostly because some of the answers scared him as well.
"What about neither?" Tomas finally spoke and looked pleadingly at Marcus to let it go. Marcus raised an eyebrow at the look then made himself comfortable in the rather uncomfortable looking chair, facing Tomas.
"Why, do you have anything better on your mind, Tomas?"
Tomas groaned and said several choice words in Spanish, earning another chuckle.
"Ah, tsk, tsk, Tomas," Marcus shook his head in amusement. "I've been called much worse in the first grade of school."
"Somehow I doubt you let it slide then," Tomas retorted and turned to lie on his back, looking up at the ceiling.
"Well, I was a scrawny kid back then," Marcus admitted, "but I quickly learned how to throw punches. So yeah, Billy Dickens really regretted learning those words from his older brother." Marcus remembered the short-lived feeling of victory when he managed to tackle the kid that was a head taller than him to the ground. He could still feel the sensation of his knuckles hitting Billy straight in the nose and seeing the impressed looks of the other kids. For a minute, Marcus felt really strong and fearless. That was until he got home and found out that the school called his parents. The hiding he got still made him cringe.
"When I got home I regretted throwing that punch even more," Marcus said softly and Tomas wanted to say how sorry he was, for bringing up the memory, for the fact Marcus had such a shitty childhood, for everything. But instead he bit his lip, because he knew Marcus wouldn't appreciate the sentiment, not now.
"What about you, Tomas?" Marcus spoke suddenly, trying to think about anything but his own past.
"Me?"
"Yes. We're on the road for more than six months and I still don't know whether you were a geek or a rebel at school."
This time it was Tomas that raised an eyebrow.
"Are you asking me if I was acting out at school?"
"Well, you refuse to talk about your 'gift', so yeah. I'd like to learn more about you."
"I don't refuse to talk about 'it', just... not now." Tomas swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and gave Marcus a pleading look. The older man sighed.
"So, were you a school president or were you a heartbreaker?"
Tomas had to chuckle at the options.
"I think... none?"
"Now that's hard to believe," Marcus said with a grin and Tomas gave a small shrug.
"I mostly kept to my studies. Had to keep good grades so I could get into the seminary. Though I loved to play soccer."
"When did you know you wanted to become a priest?" Marcus asked with a frown.
"I'm not sure..." Tomas said, his brow furrowed. "I think Abuelita was telling me about it ever since I went to live with her. You know how important faith is to us Mexicans," Tomas gave a slight shrug and a smile.
"How old were you when you were sent to Mexico?"
"Six. Our parents just divorced and mom couldn't take care of both Olivia and me. Abuelita offered to take care of me instead."
"That must've been though," Marcus said, his voice soft."To leave your sister and mother at such a young age." Marcus knew how hard it was to have your life ripped away from you at such a tender age. He still had the scars that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, never mind Tomas.
"It wasn't bad," Tomas said, for a second catching the glimpse of a lost boy in Marcus' eyes and wishing to chase it away. "I got to talk with them every week on the phone and Olivia used to spend her summer holidays in Mexico with me and Abuelita. It was... it was the best mom could do."
"Did you ever ask why it was you she sent you away?" Marcus knew he shouldn't ask, shouldn't stir up the pot, but he wanted to know. Wanted to make sure that Tomas knew the reasoning.
"Oh, I asked that a lot of times." Tomas chuckled and Marcus was glad to hear no contempt in the sound, only amusement. "I was six, so you can imagine. I swear the first month I made Abuelita absolutely crazy with all my questions."
"What, you being annoying? I can't even imagine," Marcus quipped, earning a lighthearted glare.
"Mom didn't have a lot of money. She already worked two jobs when our father just up and left her. I still had a year 'til school and Olivia was already enrolled. There was no one to stay at home with me. For a while mom tried, but... it was hard and we were often without food, all the money going to rent." Tomas shrugged at the old history. He seemed to already have made his peace with it and Marcus was happy for that.
"She got sick one day and couldn't get to work for several days. She called Abuelita for help and she came. When she saw how we were living... she offered to take me in."
"Why didn't she take Olivia too?"
"Mom wouldn't let her, really. And Olivia didn't want to leave Chicago either. She had her friends there, school. And I've always had a suspicion that Abuelita took me in so she could raise me as a proper Christian," Tomas said with a fond smile."Something about growing up to be a better man than my father could ever be."
"Well, you might not become the next Mexican Pope, but I'm pretty sure you're already a better man than your father ever was," Marcus said and Tomas turned his head to look at him, taken aback by the statement.
"You really think that?" There was surprise in his voice and Marcus frowned at the question, giving a slight nod.
"Even after what happened with Harper?"
Marcus sighed and shook his head, his eyes fixed on Tomas.
"You acted brashly," Marcus admitted. "...and it could've had deadly repercussions, I'll admit that. But..." Marcus made sure he had Tomas' full attention, before he continued. "You did what you thought was right. In the end, we got her out of the house, which is the most important thing. I might've felt like whacking you over the head once or twice myself in the process, but I would've used rolled up newspaper instead," he finished with a grin and Tomas snorted, closing his eyes momentarily as the sound reverberated through his skull.
"I'd have preferred the newspaper, it would've definitely hurt less," he admitted sheepishly and Marcus chuckled.
"I'm hoping next time you will trust my gut instinct more than some nightmare." The levity was gone as quickly as it came and Tomas grimaced.
"It was a vision... and it told me that Harper needed help. At least, that's what I thought."
"And what are you thinking now, Tomas?"
If that wasn't the million-dollar question.
"Why would some demon want me there? We saved Harper... what good is that to a demon?"
"You think the vision came from God? Why would He want you to exorcise Harper?"
There was logic hidden in the design, logic Tomas was trying to figure out but it was early morning and his mind didn't work right yet. Marcus took pity on him.
"How would you have felt if we did the exorcism and it caused irreparable damage to Harper? You are already feeling guilty... how do you think you would've felt if she'd died because you listened to your vision?"
'How do you think I feel every time I think about Gabriel?' Marcus thought to himself.
Tomas looked at Marcus, his eyes suddenly misty and full of pain and doubt.
"That... didn't happen."
"No, it didn't. We were lucky. But we might not be lucky next time, Tomas. You need to be wary of the visions and letting demons inside your head," Marcus said, internally cringing at how much this sounded like a lecture. Seeing the stricken look on the younger man's face, he just had to ease the mood a bit.
"Besides, I'd hate to be looking for a new exorcist to train. Got quite used to your quirks and strange fitness habits."
"Going for a run at five in the morning isn't that strange," Tomas protested half-heartedly, but felt relieved that Marcus wasn't about to up and leave in search of a new partner. "And you're one to speak about strange habits... drawing birds in your bible and breaking into apartments."
"You're just jealous that I can pick a lock so effortlessly." Marcus snorted with a shit eating grin and Tomas relaxed back on the couch.
"As if that is something to be proud of."
"You never know when you'll need to break through some doors," Marcus noted. "I was already planning to teach you lock picking, we can start after we get some good sleep."
"So like... not in the near future?" Tomas thought he might never sleep well again, though maybe it was just the concussion speaking.
"Smart-ass. I'll teach you tomorrow."
"Can't wait," Tomas muttered, unsure how that lesson would go. "Where did you even learn how to pick a lock?"
"One can learn a lot of things in a home for boys," Marcus said as he remembered the incident that led him to learn this particular skill. It was one of the more innocent ones and a soft smile played on his lips.
"Pray tell," Tomas asked, barely holding in a yawn. Marcus noted his drooping eyes and with a shrug started recalling the story of how he and another boy got locked in a room during a midnight raid on the pantry and how he got his first lesson in lock picking. By the time he finished, Tomas was breathing softly, eyes closed and face relaxed. Marcus looked at him fondly, holding in a chuckle at the fact he just essentially put one Father Tomas Ortega to sleep with a bedtime story. Getting out of the chair, he stretched and winced when he heard several bones pop, but Tomas didn't notice. Marcus went into their room and grabbed a blanket, then threw it over the sleeping form on the couch. Looking out the window and seeing it was still dark outside, he decided that maybe getting more sleep wasn't such a bad idea after all.
TBC