The night Nabulungi sleeps on the mission couch, Kevin dreams he's walking through Yunna with a bowl of water, hoping to find a little black dog with white paws and big brown eyes. As he searches, something stalks: he glimpses eyes now and then, over a person's shoulder or lurking behind a store window. They're gleaming and green, like the eyes of a hyena caught in the beam of a flashlight. Kevin can't make himself run. He can't spill the water in his bowl or the dog will be thirsty.

Turning down an alleyway, the green eyes loom above him. They're set in the skull of a giant snake—the same snake Jafar became at the end of Aladdin. The word Slytherin flashes through Kevin's thoughts. A little white paw sticks out of the snake's black and yellow coils.

Kevin drops the bowl. It shatters, water soaking into the dry ground. He dives for the bowl as the snake lunges, its spread hood blocking out the sun. Kevin grabs the dog—then he's wandering through Yunna, a dead dog in his arms and two halves of a bowl in his hands. He knows that if he can just find water, he can fix the bowl and bring the dog back to life. But the snake blocks him, baring fangs longer than his arm. Silent flies gather around the dog. There's a blood stain on the ground just like the one made by Sister Damisi's dead husband. The snake's pink, forked tongue stops an inch from Kevin's face—

Kevin wakes up thinking Slytherin. Arnold snores in the bed beside him. Kevin listens to his friend's steady breathing, his pulse and thoughts racing.

Buddy, he wants to say, you're very wrong about me being a good Slytherin.

Love has to hurt sometimes, he reminds himself, but the mantra doesn't have the ring it had just a few hours ago. For the first time, Kevin asks, Why?

Because she's wrong for him—it'll be a train-wreck—how can he know what he wants, he's such a child sometimes—All answers, Kevin realizes, that make him horribly, disgustingly angry.

Kevin wishes God were speaking to him again. Then he'd know exactly what to think. All he are his own thoughts; they contradict and quarrel and never settle.

Never settle until they come to: No one should hurt the people they love. It's so simple. It's so obvious that he wants to deny it, but he can't quite do so. How did he get so twisted around that he thought otherwise?

He clasps his hands together and vows, Heavenly Father, I will not let anger rule my heart anymore. He tries, but doesn't get back to sleep, and watches the day lighten behind the curtain.

Kevin hears from Rob that Nabulungi had gotten up before him and set up the dining-room for breakfast; she's determined to repay the ex-Mormons for their kindness. She eats breakfast with them, and though she talks every now and then she mostly watches her father, who seems determined to ignore her.

In fact, Mafala partners with Gotswana, not his daughter. Nabulungi spends the ride to Yunna silent and pensive. She joins Kevin and Arnold, naturally. Kevin tries his best to stay out of her way—fortunately, Arnold is sociable enough for the both of them. Every so often he glances at Kevin expectantly, but whatever he's looking for, Kevin doesn't provide.

It also doesn't help that Arnold and Nabulungi make a great team. Nabulungi knows the people and can talk to them in their references, idioms and jokes. She has a keen sense of when to press and when to back off. Arnold starts out loud and excitable, but becomes less so as the day continues and he watches Nabulungi work. He rises to the challenge she unconsciously sets: by the afternoon, he spins his stories like an old pro, he listens avidly and questions softly, and his energy is as calm and focused as Kevin has ever seen it. They make the Book of Arnold shine, and get two placements.

Kevin fades into the background, probes his feelings, and tries to deal with them. Nabulungi goes back to her father's hut that night, but from their expressions when the villagers show up for breakfast the next morning, it hasn't helped. Again, she joins him and Arnold as they proselytize. They go to one of Nabulungi's follow-ups, and get another placement. Each success makes Kevin feel like he's sliding further into a deep, dark pit.

He tries to turn his feelings off. It doesn't work. Countless times, he forces a smile, tries not to scowl, makes himself chuckle at some stupid joke one of them makes. It's the same the next day; Mafala is not going to give. No placements for the three of them that day—"We cannot win them all," Nabulungi says philosophically.

"You've been pretty quiet lately," Arnold says to Kevin as they walk back to the jeeps.

Kevin really doesn't want to answer this question in front of Nabulungi. Of course, that wouldn't even occur to Arnold.

He shrugs. "Oh? I hadn't noticed."

Arnold and Nabulungi share a look when they think he's not watching.

After dinner, Kevin goes to see Rob McKinley. An ex-Mormon with jagged, chewed-on fingernails holds the door to his office half-open. Kevin assumes it's Brian Church—he and McKinley have been having a lot of discussions lately.

As Kevin turns around to give them some privacy, he hears Mason Neeley's voice, loud and anxious: "I mean, I can't even keep my companion here! What good am I? I might as well just go home—"

Kevin winces, both at the pain in Mason's voice and the thought of someone else leaving.

"Mason, please, sit," Rob says, calm and kind. He continues talking, but by then Kevin is in the living room and can't hear the rest of the conversation.

Memories of all the times Kevin could've talked to Elder Neeley but didn't flash before his eyes. How many times had he heard in the missionary training centre that churches are built on relationships—between the individual and God, between the members of the congregation, between the congregation and non-believers? Now the church is splintering, and it's partly because of him.

In fact, hadn't he meant to talk to Brian about his worries about being sent to the outer darkness after death? Kevin winces. He'd completely forgotten. Kevin Price should've been spearheading a morale-boosting program, should've been leading a small group, should've been doing anything other than sulking over being abnormal and being second-place in his best friend's life.

I'm going to stop feeling this way. I'm going to be better—for the church. For Arnold.

He waits, watching some of the ex-Mormons and the villagers play soccer outside. How long will the young men stay if bills mount, if parents issue ultimatums and bishops call them sons of perdition? How long will the villagers stay if life keeps grinding them down, or disease strikes, or another warlord decides to take out the church? How big will the Church of Arnold be in a year?

Will it still be here by the end of their mission?

Kevin's noticed his thoughts have become darker lately. Whenever he had the blues before Uganda, he just reminded himself that God loved him and thought he was special, and it usually perked him right up. Now, he has Arnold to perk him up, but he won't have him for long.

Mason leaves Rob's office. Kevin searches him for signs of the pain he heard in his voice, but there's nothing. Seeing the soccer game, Mason grins and heads outside.

Seems like Rob solved the problem. Kevin feels a bit annoyed. I should be the one—

Sin of pride, Kevin reminds himself. Other people can serve the church just as well as—maybe even better than—me. Better than the me I am now, anyway. It'll be a whole 'nother story when I'm back to my old self!

With that thought in mind, he walks over to Rob's office and raps on the doorframe. Rob glances up from a stack of paperwork.

"Do you have a minute to talk, Elder McKinley?"

Rob looks pleasantly surprised. "I do indeed. Sit, sit." Kevin closes the door behind him and sits in the brown chair opposite Rob's wooden desk. He notices a box of Kleenex out, and wonders if that was for Mason.

Now that he's here, Kevin can't quite find the words. He tries to talk a few times, but nothing comes out.

Eventually, Rob asks, "Is this about the orphanage?" At Kevin's surprise, Rob gently says, "You're not the first to have some questions about a loving God after seeing those kids and hearing some of their stories."

Kevin looks away from Rob, his gaze alighting on Rob's small bookshelf. He's barely even thought of the orphans since he left the orphanage on Monday. "Ah, no."

"The wedding, then?"

Slowly, Kevin nods. He glances at the closed door.

"Nothing you say leaves this room," Rob says, miming zipping up his lips.

"I'm just...worried about it, I guess. It's not because they're both young. Heck, my parents married at 23. But that was after they'd experienced the world, dated people, knew a bit more about what they wanted in life. Elder Cunningham and Sister Hatimbi...she even said the other night that she's not thinking about the future! And of course he won't if she doesn't." He's shaking his head as he talks.

Rob nods, steepling his fingers. "Am I right in thinking you haven't said these things to Elder Cunningham?"

Kevin squirms in his seat. "I haven't." Not without letting Arnold assume that Kevin is just thinking like Mafala to help Arnold, anyway.

"Would you like some help with telling him your feelings?"

Kevin shakes his head. I'm going to let a good, decent man be the bad guy instead of getting my hands dirty. Shame makes him feel like he has a film over his skin, grimy and dirty, like sweat.

"If you want, I can mediate your conversation and provide a safe, non-judgemental space for you both to talk about these issues." As district leader, Rob must've taken quite a few conflict resolution courses. "It might be just what you need. Elder Cunningham is a good friend, and I imagine it must be difficult for you to have these worries. To feel...less than perfect as a friend."

"Yes," Kevin admits. I only wish it were like that, Rob.

"Well," Rob shrugs, "tough." Kevin recoils in surprise and Rob chuckles. "Oh dear, that was a bit blunt, wasn't it? But you're not perfect. No one is. You don't have to be, not with Heavenly Father's love. 'For we all stumble in many ways.'"

"James 3:2." Kevin frowns a bit, remembering James 3:8: "The tongue is a restless evil, full of deadly poison."

Rob seems impressed. "Exactly. But the Book of Arnold is about expressing," Rob gestures expansively outwards, "your feelings, not keeping them," his hands close in tight over his chest, "bottled up. Personally, I think your friendship with Elder Cunningham will survive—even be strenghtened—if you tell him your concerns."

"No." The word leaves his mouth without thinking. "I can't." He frowns at the memory of the ache in his chest—and winces at the memory of the pain in his ass—during those terrible two weeks after he tried to convert the General, when he and Arnold weren't talking.

"It's up to you, of course," Rob says, agreeably. He's probably disappointed in Kevin, but he doesn't show it.

Kevin nods. When he doesn't leave, Rob asks, "Something else?"

Kevin can't speak. He tries to think of one sentence and another thought hijacks it, or a memory scatters his words. He inhales slowly, searching for some sense of calm.

He begins with, "You're sure nothing I say leaves this room?"

"Of course."

Kevin stares at his shoes. "I need your help turning it off." Rob is silent. "I've been having these feelings, and I can't have them, so I need your help to get rid of them. I've never had feelings I needed to turn off before." He pauses. "Well, maybe pride, but I didn't know I needed to—" he interrupts himself; he's getting off-topic, "—the point is, I need your help."

"With turning what off, exactly?" Rob says carefully.

Such a sinful, shameful word, and he was once such a good person... "Jealousy." It took him a while to identify it—he's never felt it before. Oh, his parents told him he was clingy and moody when Mom brought Baby Jack back from the hospital, but he was barely a year old at the time. He can't remember that far back.

"Jealousy of...?"

Kevin swallows. "Of Sister Hatimbi. And," he clears his throat, "her relationship with Elder Cunningham."

There's something in Rob's quiet, "Ah," that makes Kevin look up. As far as Kevin can read, his expression is interested but neutral.

"I shouldn't be, of course," Kevin hastens to add. "She's kind, joyful, full of Christ's love. They're great together. My head knows that...but..." He has the sudden urge to loosen his tie; the room feels stuffy, too warm. "I need to feel happy for him. Even if this stupid wedding doesn't happen, she's not going anywhere."

Rob nods through Kevin's last sentence. "All the more reason, in my opinion, to feel your emotions and manage your responses them. I'm sorry, Elder Price. I'm always happy to talk, but I can't help you turn it off. It's just not healthy."

Kevin hadn't considered Rob saying no. "But I can't manage them. That's what I'm saying." He stands and leans over Rob's desk, bringing his face closer to the district leader's. Rob blinks and pulls back slightly. "They're so...strong."

Rob chuckles dryly, which makes Kevin start—the last thing he expected was laughter. "Yes, the feelings you want to turn off tend to be. Believe you me, I understand!" What seemed kind a second ago now seems patronizing.

"Then help me!" Kevin snaps. "Please!"

"Okay, let's lower the volume, here..." Rob says, lowering a hand illustratively. His tone is so close to Kevin telling his siblings, "Indoor voices, gang," that Kevin grinds his teeth.

Rob continues. "It's difficult, I know, but you need to own your jealousy. If we don't own our feelings, they own us." His blue eyes are bright with excitement. "When you're ready, there are a few exercises we could try—"

Kevin slams his hand on Rob's desk, making Rob flinch. "I hate her!" He glances at the door, suddenly sure that Arnold was passing by at just that minute and heard him. Stop being paranoid. He catches his breath, then turns back to Rob just in time to catch his stunned expression becoming neutral and non-judgemental once again.

More quietly, Kevin says, "Every time he talks about her, I want to scream. Every time they kiss, my skin crawls. Every time Elder Hatimbi speaks out against their wedding, I want to cheer him on. I want to help—no," he swallows, his pulse hammering, "I have helped Elder Hatimbi, I've just been subtle.

"I've never been so far from God—so far from the person I want to be—than I have been these past few days. Please, Elder McKinley: help me."

Rob's expression seems quite close to pity. There's a distinct pause before he shakes his head. He's weakening.

Kevin reaches across the desk and grabs one of Rob's hands in two of his own, squeezing tightly. "Turning it off might not even work for me! Then, we can do all the exercises and mediations you want. All right? How does that sound?"

Rob is staring at his hand entwined with Kevin's. Kevin abruptly remembers holding Effu's hand on the night of their semi-date. Rob might be feeling the same way she did then. Maybe if Kevin smiles, puts his hand on Rob's arm for a few moments, Kevin might be able to convince him...

Rob notices Kevin noticing him. His freckled cheeks flush pink as he jerks his hand away, leaving Kevin thoroughly unnerved by his thoughts.

"Would you like some water, Elder Price?" Rob says, a bit breathless.

"Yes!"

"Great!" Rob makes a valiant effort to give Kevin a wide berth in his tiny office and strides quickly to the kitchen.

Kevin flops back down in his chair, running his hands through his hair. Further from the man I want to be than I ever have been. Rob takes far longer than any kitchen-run should, but Kevin is grateful for the breather.

Rob returns and hands Kevin a full bottle of water—he's already drunk half of his. Kevin drinks. Rob closes the door and leans his forehead against it for a few moments. He murmurs something so quietly that, even in his otherwise silent office, Kevin can't hear it.

Rob stands straight, but still faces the door. "Tell me, Elder Price, why do you hate Heavenly Father?"

Kevin almost spits his water out. "Excuse me?"

"'In God's care, there is love; in God's love, there is peace. The biggest lie of this world is that this isn't true.'" Kevin recognizes his own words to Effu last week. "If you're not peaceful, well," Rob shrugs, "clearly you don't love God. It's really not that complicated."

Rob turns to face Kevin, looking down at him with a barely concealed sneer. "You want it complicated, of course. So you can rationalize things. Tell yourself that your jealousy isn't so bad. Other people—other sinners—feel it. Nothing bad happens to them! They get away with it. Why can't you?

"But God knows, and He judges."

Kevin always considered himself a warrior for Christ. He's realized since Uganda that faith came easily to him because his life was easy. As Rob preaches hellfire and brimstone, Kevin finds himself saddened for Rob yet perversely impressed. For Rob to still be Mormon while carrying so much guilt was really quite a feat of strength.

Unfortunately, Rob's strategies for turning it off aren't helping Kevin one bit. Kevin isn't sure God exists, so appealing to that part of him isn't very effective. Wonderful. I begged him for it—I considered flirting with him for it!—and it's not even going to work.

Rob must sense this. He sits behind his desk and takes a long swallow from his water bottle as he regards Kevin.

"How have your brothers and sisters been?" Rob asks suddenly.

Has Rob given up already? "Oh, fine." He feels a small pang, because he's not really sure. He emailed his brothers and sisters a few times since breaking with the LDS Church, but only Vanessa replied, just once, and that was little more than 'I'm praying for you.' Kevin keeps hoping Jack will reply; they've always been close.

"You're the oldest, right?"

"Yeah." Rob keeps looking thoughtful. To fill the silence, Kevin adds, "There's me, Jack, Vanessa, Scott, Tim and Katie. You've got two older sisters, right?"

Rob ignores the question. "I can't imagine what your family would think of you if they knew you were such a terrible friend."

Kevin can't stop himself from flinching. Rob sees it, and gives a tiny, unsettling smile. He's not talking with his hands, Kevin realizes, which disturbs him even more.

"You left the church, and now you've tried to stop your best friend from getting married. How would your parents react? Your little brothers and sisters? How can you be their big brother now, knowing what you know about yourself?"

Kevin opens his mouth to protest. "Are you worthy of that?" Rob asks, and Kevin can't speak. Is he? He literally has no memory of his family without the friendly competitions and rivalries between him and Jack, but Jack won't even talk to him. Vanessa, who always called him "my favourite big brother," only says she'll pray for him. If that's what they're like when all they know is the old Kevin, how will they treat the doubting-God-exists Kevin, the full-of-hatred Kevin—

—the isn't-even-sure-he-can-fuck-a-woman Kevin, his mind hisses. Kevin grinds his palm into his forehead, as if trying to shove that nasty voice to the back of his skulll.

"Whenever you feel angry, I want you to think of your family. You want to be a good person for them, don't you?"

When Kevin nods, Rob comments, "It must sting, that she calls him Arnold when you don't."

Kevin's jaw clenches. Just like Rob said, Kevin pictures what Katie's face would look like if he told her the kind of person he is now. His anger bleeds away—but only slightly. Not enough.

"It's not working," Kevin mumbles. "I'm trying..."

Rob takes a small sip of his water. "I'm sure you are," he says neutrally. He looks away for a few moments. "Given what you've told me about your feelings toward Sister Hatimbi—and your actions—I wouldn't advise telling Elder Cunningham anything about them."

Kevin grips his knees tightly. He can't lose Arnold. If he is that...thing Arnold thinks he is, well, all he has is friendship, which is nothing compared to romance, nothing compared to a new family.

Everyone else will move past me...I'll be stuck, trapped by a body that doesn't work...

Rob's eyes are blue as a winter sky and fixated on Kevin as if he can read his thoughts. "Fear doesn't have to feed anger," he says softly. "It can fight it, too." A pause, then: "He probably expects you to give a toast at the wedding reception."

That sick, reeking rage rises—but Kevin has his worries about his family, his friendship, his body's instincts. For a while, it doesn't work. But Rob is always there with a comment or a quiet observation that thickens Kevin's armour.

Most of the time. Once, Rob's gaze goes distant and he murmurs, "If your parents ever found out what you think about him—what you want him to do to you—well, will they be your parents anymore?"

It's obviously spill-over from Rob's own efforts at turning it off. Blushing, Kevin clears his throat.

Instead, Rob glances at him, almost as if he expects Kevin to answer. Kevin waits a moment, but Rob doesn't look away. There's no 'almost' or 'as if'—Rob literally expects him to answer.

Kevin feels a surge of anger that has nothing to do with Arnold and Nabulungi. "That's not the issue."

There's a pause before Rob says, "Of course not." But he says it neutrally enough that Kevin decides he shouldn't look like he's protesting too much, and he lets it drop.

They finish with loosened ties, Kevin hunched over in his chair, Rob sitting on his desk watching him.

"He'll probably ask you to go ring shopping," Rob remarks.

Kevin grunts.

"How do you feel?" Rob asks.

"Nothing."

Rob gives a short, jerky nod. "That's a great start."

Kevin blinks, then smiles for the first time in ages. He feels clean, better than he has in weeks. There's no anger in his heart anymore; now, he can truly help the church, as he was always meant to.

"Thanks so much, Elder McKinley." He stands, giving him a manly thump on the shoulder. "This means a lot."

Rob gives him the same nod as before. "Good." He seems to be looking through Kevin. "Well. I have some paperwork I should get back to."

"Need any help with—"

"No!" Rob's forcefulness takes both of them aback. "No," Rob continues more quietly. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Well...all right, then. See you tomorrow, Elder McKinley."

Kevin doesn't; if he didn't know any better, he'd say Rob was avoiding him. He does, however, find Nabulungi alone when he goes into the kitchen to help prepare dinner.

"Hello!" she greets. "I thought I would help. It seems wrong that my village lets you boys do so much work."

"We're happy to do it. We have electricity, after all. Makes cooking a lot easier."

The mission's dinners have been very eclectic, depending on the food available—Kevin doesn't even bat an eye that they're eating scrambled eggs. He knows by sight every hen that produced these eggs, and has private names for most of them (Sister Damisi laughed when he asked if they named their chickens). He'll never look at food the same way again.

Kevin looks about for Eric, who's also on dinner duty tonight. Seeing this, Nabulungi says, "I think Elder Thomas is busy with some scripture readings."

That's not like him to forget. "I'll go get him."

"Elder Price," Nabulungi says hurriedly, "could you please wait a moment?"

"All right..."

Nabulungi fiddles with her tie as she speaks. "Elder Price, I worry that I might have offended you. Perhaps it is just my imagination, but you seem to be angry with me."

Kevin grimaces in embarrassment. "I've been drinking less coffee lately—I've been pretty snappy at everyone."

Nabulungi nods. Those social instincts that make her such a good proselytizer must be screaming that he's full of shit, for she says, "I hope that if I have offended you, you would let me know. We are both close to Arnold, so I want us to get along."

Kevin knows from Arnold that the best lies have some truth in them. He makes a big show of opening his mouth and drawing in breath to speak, then looking away.

"Yes?"

"Well, the night you slept over...I wasn't a big fan of how you just barged into our room without knocking."

Wincing, Nabulungi brings her hand to her mouth. "Oh, Heavenly Father—I am so sorry, Elder Price! Obviously, I was not thinking. I promise I will never disrespect your space again."

No defensiveness or justifications—just a simple apology. She's a really great person. Something sharp and bitter stirs. Kevin pictures Arnold frowning as he says "Don't ever talk to me again," sees Vanessa backing away from him and Jack snapping, "You're not my big brother!" Cold washes over the twisting, ugly thing in his guts, freezing it.

Kevin smiles. "Apology accepted."

Nabulungi relaxes, smiling brightly. "Shall we get started on dinner?"

She really is bad at cooking: she can't crack an egg without having to waste five minutes fishing out bits of egg-shell. Kevin doesn't snap or sigh or roll his eyes.

He doesn't feel much of anything.