Sitting in his office, facing the window, Steve is trying to do a sketch of the gray skies of the approaching storm when the ringing of the phone startles him and causes his hand to slip and a long line now runs across the paper.

"St. Anna's, Father Steve speaking."

"Father Steve?" The quiet voice on the other side is unmistakeably James'. "Do you perhaps have time this afternoon? I feel I need a confession, or a talk. Something."

"Of course, James. I'll be in my office all afternoon so just come whenever you want."

"Thank you" there is an almost imperceptible pause before James ads "Father," and hangs up.

Requests like this one are nothing new for Steve, there are often people who need to talk to someone who will listen (but who are unwilling or unable to talk to a shrink), but this was the first time James has ever done that in the three years Steve's been back. It will also be the first time the two of them talk since that confession two weeks ago. Since then Steve's seen him during mass and he's noticed that he hasn't been looking that well. All of that put together with the topic of their last conversation causes Steve to worry about James. Perhaps he's done something about his feelings, perhaps the other person had found out.

Soon Steve's wonderings were interrupted by the doorbell. The sight that greeted him only increased his concern. The person standing at the door was more like a ghost of James than James himself. His hair, usually meticulously combed back, was dishevelled, and the paleness of his face was even more prominent because of the dark bags under his eyes.

"Hi, Steve….umm I mean Father." His voice a harsh whisper.

"Steve's ok, come in, come in James, please." The two of them slowly take the stairs up to Steve's office where Steve invites James to sit in on one of the armchairs around a small side table. Steve remembers that when they were young, James used to like drink strong black tea with a splash of milk when he was upset "Would you like a cup of tea or something else? You really don't look that good." Steve asks concerned.

"Well, thank you Father!" James retorts sarcastically, but quickly realizes his mistake and that Steve spoke out of genuine concern and not to make fun of him. "I'm sorry. I haven't been sleeping well lately. And yes, I'd love a cup, but only if you'll join me."

"Of course I'll join you, you know I can't say no to tea." Steve says with a small smile and leaves for the kitchen. When he returns a couple of minutes later he finds James by his bookshelf and is at first worried he might be looking through his sketchbooks, but then he sees that it is a thick old tome. "I see you've found something that interests you."

James is startled and leaves the book on its side on Steve's desk. He apologizes as he slowly walks back to the side table and as he walks by the bookshelves he caresses gently the spines of the books. "Oh, sorry. I'm a weak person when it comes to book shelves...and other things." The last part of the sentence he says so quietly that Steve almost doubts he's heard right. He decides to ignore the statement for now, placing the two cups of tea on the table. He walks to the bookshelf to see what was the book that so interested James. He is surprised to find it to be one of his books about Islam. He looks at James questioningly "Why choose this book out of all of the others?"

"It intrigued me to see that there are books about Islam and other religions on an office bookshelf of a priest."

"Well, before I felt the call of the Church I my plan was to study comparative religions. I guess the interest is still there. Also there are benefits to knowing things about other religions and other world views. I am a Christian, but I believe that researching other religions other traditions makes me a better Catholic, a better priest, and ultimately a better person. "

"That makes sense."

"You can borrow it if you'd like."

"That's ok. I haven't been in a reading mood lately." James says as he reaches for the cup.

"What's wrong, James?"

"Why do you do that?" James raises his voice for the first time since entering the office.

"Hey, what? What did I do?"

"Why do you call me James? You never used to call me that. I was always Bucky to you."

Steve notices the hurt on James' face and he leans forward and for a moment considers his next words, "It's not like it used to be. I am not that kid from then. You are a parishioner and I am the priest now. I can't think of you as Bucky. I should not."

This last statement causes James to look up and he questions, "And why not?" but Steve does not answer. Instead he takes a sip of the tea.

They sit like that in silence and drink their tea, Steve for James to begin talking and James trying to gather the courage to speak. He finally succeeds, "you remember my problem, the one I mentioned you during our…"

"I remember."

"Well, those thoughts are still with me. And usually I can manage to ignore them. I play the piano or I read, but lately this hasn't been working. I can't focus on the words on the pages of books and my piano is… being repaired just now."

"Repaired? Why? What happened to it?"

"Well, it sort of… I sort of broke it." This worries Steve almost as much as the bags under James' eyes. James continues to explain "I was just so frustrated from the lack of sleep and from the images in my head that I decided to take it out on my most valued possession of course. Idiotic, right?"

"Not the smartest idea you've ever had, that's for sure. But you're not the first person to ever take his pain out on the things he loves, or in your case on yourself… I know what your piano means to you. It is more like a part of you than a possession, right?"

James rests his head in his hands and his voice trembles as he answers, "Yes. You can't imagine how I felt seeing keys broken so. I bet you never did anything that stupid."

Steve smiles, "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I've done stupid things many times. But, let's get back to you, yes? What is happening. You say you haven't been sleeping, you can't read, you damaged your piano… Things are really bad, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are. I don't think I can take it for much longer. I don't think I can keep fighting this. It's getting harder and harder saying no. I've done things…" James stops there and just stares at the now empty tea cup.

"Did you tell him?"

James is quick to reply, "Oh, no, no. I couldn't do that to him!"

"So, what have you done?"

Steve notices a blush of embarrassment spreading on James' cheeks, "I've sort of been giving into the temptation… on my own."

And now it's Steve's turn to blush, "Oh I see." Steve stops for a moment considering what to tell James. He understands the difficulty of trying to resist one's urges. He knows what it's like fighting one's body. It is the most difficult thing he's ever had to learn – saying no to his own body and mind. "You know that is not the solution to the problem, it just prolongs it."

"I understand that. But the respite it offers me, even for a couple of minutes is priceless. Those fleeting moments afterwards when I don't think of nothing, when my mind is quiet and empty – those are the moments that are the only ones in which I don't hate myself. When I give in I can breathe again. In those moments the world disappears and only he remains before me." James' voice becomes softer, more sensual. Steve looks at him and sees that his eyes are closed and his fingers are on his lower lip when he continues, "I can see him then and in those moments he does not hate me, he loves me. He tells me that, he holds me and I swear I can feel him on my skin, I can taste him, I can…"

Suddenly James stops and both he and Steve shuffle around in their seats trying to ignore the awkward moment that just happened. "I'm truly sorry, Father. I shouldn't be saying this, to you of all people!"

James starts to get out of the chair but Steve reaches towards him, touches his arm to stop him. "Hey, it's ok. There's no need to go. I understand, I'm human after all. People often think of us priests as being made of stone, unfeeling and unaffected by our own bodies and minds, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. We too are haunted by demons. Often the same demons as other people, as you…"

James returns to the chair and considers Steve's words for a minute.

Steve continues, "we as human beings need, crave intimacy. Most of us do, at least. We need to feel that connection with another person, both physical and emotional connection. It is normal."

"In the past, how did you defeat that need? How did you manage that knowledge that you were saying no to that connection?"

"It took me some time. It was not easy and I wouldn't say I defeated it, I perhaps have it under control."

"If only I could do that, but it seems that I can't any more?"

"But you used to? What changed ?"

"It's the force with which these feelings come. They overwhelm me. It's like I become someone else. And that other person I become, sometimes I can't recognize myself… but then there are other times when it's like I remember perhaps being that person once, a long time ago… I'm sorry, I'm not making sense, I know."

"No, no, that's ok. It's strange, I know. I too sometimes feel like there's two of me: one that I keep on the outside and that I want to be, and the other one which rears it strange head every now and then. The trick in my case is to remember to think about all the people around me, all the people that depend on me. I focus on that and I come back. I don't know if that helps or not, but it's what works for me."

James looks at Steve like he's grown another head. "Hey, I said us priests fight the same demons like everyone else, you thought I was joking?"

"No, no, it's just… it kind of felt like… no, no." he shakes his head. "To get back to the thing, in the past I would usually sit at my piano and play away the images and the feelings. I would pour them out through music. But since I'm an idiot I can't do that right now."

"Of course, I see. That can easily be fixed."

The surprise is written all over James' face, "How?"

"Well, there's this," Steve reaches into his pocket and takes out a ring of keys and picks one off the ring and hands it to James.

"What is this?" James asks confused.

"The key to the church organ, yours to use whenever, except when there's a mass or something like that, of course."

James looks at the key incredulously, "Really?"

"Really." Steve smiles at him.

"Thank you, Father. Thank you."

"Please James, there's no need to call me Father. It's kind of strange hearing you call me that."

"Ok, I'll stop with the 'Father' if you stop with the 'James'. It's either both of us or neither."

Steve pretends to think hard but eventually smiles and says, "Ok, Bucky."

"Ok, Steve. Could I play now?"

Steve just smiles at him. They share a look and then they both get up and go into the church so Bucky can start playing immediately. When Bucky sits at the organ and places his fingers on the keys he closes his eyes and smiles