Things were looking up. He hadn't felt so happy since… well, since they all went to shit - with Milah. The unpleasant thought sent a shockwave of discomfort through him, fleeting though it was.
Emma had left early, which was just as well - since he had to make a call to the Bishop this morning anyway to make arrangements. He was practically skipping as he entered the church.
"Lucy?" he asked in a sing-song voice. He heard her response before he saw her.
"Good morning, father! Aren't you cheery?" She smiled sweetly back at him.
"That I am, Lucy - that I am. And you? How is your mother?" He mused that her mother had better be doing well, because he couldn't stop smiling even if he wanted to - and he had no intention of making an ass of himself this early in the day.
"She's doing wonderfully, Father! Thank you so much for asking, and for being so flexible about my hours here. I know it's been difficult, and I'm so very grateful for your understanding and your grace. You're a wonderful man, and a fantastic priest. I really mean that."
Her sincerity and compliments made him feel itchy - he'd never much gotten used to people saying those kinds of things about him. He always felt like the people who said that just didn't know him well enough - it was a reflection of their naivete, not of his true nature.
He scratched behind his ear awkwardly, "Uh, thanks. Anyway, I'll be on an important phone call with the bishop for a bit this morning - so if you could just keep an eye on things down here as usual, that would be lovely."
"Of course, Father. If anyone comes by for you I'll keep them occupied until you're available again," she said.
He really was lucky to have such a great assistant, and he felt a bit of sadness twist in his stomach over the fact that he was about to desert her.
"Thank you, Lucy. I really appreciate all that you do."
He turned on his heel to head up the stairs, mentally preparing to break the news to the Bishop. He'd already set up a call with him - but he had another 20 minutes to jot down some notes on how he wanted to say it.
Honesty was obviously the only option, but exactly how much honesty was needed… that was the real question. He didn't want to just offer up details that the bishop didn't want.
With a deep breath he picked up the phone.
Here goes nothing.
It only rang once - the bishop was expecting his call, after all.
"Father Jones, you're right on time - as usual."
Killian could practically hear the other man smiling, and he scrubbed his face with his hand - plucking up the courage to end his obviously good mood.
"Yes, Most Reverend, you know how I am about punctuality and good form."
The bishop laughed lightly in response.
"Yes, yes - Jones, we all know about your 'good form,' but let's dispense with the formalities. What's troubling you?"
Killian cleared his throat before summoning as much assuredness as he could.
"I'm calling to inform you that I must resign from my post, and from my position in the Catholic church. I've been offered a position at a church in another town, and I've accepted."
The line was deadly quiet - a strange contrast to the levity just moments ago.
"Come now, Killian. You can't be serious."
It was odd to hear the bishop call him by his first name.
"I'm truly sorry for any inconvenience, Most Reverend. I will of course stay here until the church is able to find a comparable replacement."
"You don't need to call me that right now, Jones. Let's just talk this through a moment. What's led you to do this?"
"I just…" he scratched behind his ear nervously. "I've always struggled with faith - you know that. And I tried - really - to fit in here. After all that the Catholic church has done for me… I felt like I owed the church my life. But, I've since felt like - I owe my life to God, not to this specific church. And I feel like I'm being led somewhere a little less… traditional."
The bishop sighed heavily.
"I understand that the traditions of the Catholic faith can feel a bit, dusty, to the younger generations - like yourself. But I'd urge you to consider staying with it. Every follower has their challenges, Killian - and your faith is something we can work on. The traditions are there for a reason, you can't just reinterpret the word of God because you don't like it. A lot of the churches are like that - they can be more about making people feel good than they are about the truth."
This is what he was worried about - he didn't want to defend his decision. He could - he just wasn't sure how to do this without making it seem like he was ungrateful.
"I understand. I will be cautious to stay truthful to the gospel, no matter where I am, but my decision remains."
The line was silent for another few beats before the bishop's voice came through again, the tone lowered slightly in resignation.
"What's her name, Killian?"
"Excuse me?" He'd knew he had heard correctly - it was just such an unexpected question he didn't know how to respond.
"Her name. The woman." The bishop repeated himself.
"How…" Killian stammered.
"I knew something was going on with you. You seemed - different. Anyway, I decided to drop by and surprise you for a visit - yesterday, toward the end of the day, that way I wouldn't be taking you away from any of your parishioners."
Killian's heart was at once in his throat - and then dropping suddenly all the way down into his gut like a ball of lead.
He came by last night. You were… oh God.
"The door was unlocked, Killian." The bishop knew he didn't need to say anything else.
His mind was racing, replaying as much as he could remember through their lusty haze and - no. He hadn't locked the door.
"Oh God… I'm so… I'm… " was all he could manage to say. He was mortified. He felt like a teenager getting caught with porn.
Is he going to report me? Did he already report me? Will I be excommunicated?
"Honestly, I'm just glad it was me who happened upon you - and not a parishioner. The last thing the church needs is more scandal. But in all seriousness - is she the reason you're leaving?"
"Partially, yes. But I wasn't lying about all of those things I said before."
"Yes, Jones - but those are all things that can be solved. Faith is a work in progress - and we can help you through all of the struggles you described - if only you'd let us."
"I understand, and I thank you for your willingness to help - but I know what I'm doing." Killian stood firm in his decision.
"Then one final question, Jones. You know that once you leave, you can't come back. And if she decides she doesn't want you any longer, we cannot take you back. So, are you absolutely certain about her?"
His questions echoed all of Emma's fears from last night - what happens if they don't work out?
He knows he'd never leave her, but what if she leaves him? Will he change his mind? See things differently? There's no way to know - but he knows he has to try.
"I am absolutely certain I am madly in love with her - and I am absolutely certain that I will be hers until the day I die. It doesn't matter if she loves me back, it doesn't matter if she leaves me - none of it will change the way I feel about her. And that means I've got to try."
He could hear the bishop's sharp intake of breath.
"Well then, Father Jones. I'll set about finding your replacement and I'll notify church leadership of your resignation. I'm sure there can be no objections. I'll let you know what they say."
"Of course. Thank you."
As soon as he hung up the phone he shakily stood from his office chair and walked around the large desk over to the middle of the room. He bent down and laid on his back on the hardwood - willing his body to calm down.
The waves of nerves about calling to resign, the spike of adrenaline when the bishop admitted to catching them in the act in the sanctuary, the uncertainty of what was to happen next - it all left him feeling woozy and boneless.
His mind drifted back to the horrifying fact that the bishop had seen them. How could he be so careless? Was the bishop going to tell the church leadership about it?
I mean, he's a priest who literally had a woman bent over the pulpit screaming in ecstasy - it doesn't get more sacrilegious than that.
Tendrils of the guilt that had long plagued him started licking back up into his consciousness. Everything that he's done, every sinful desire that he's given into, maybe there's no coming back from that.
Even when he changes churches - it won't change the fact that he's done these horribly sinful things. It won't change the fact that he loves it - he loves the sin, the dirt and filth of it.
He loves that feeling of giving in and doing something that's oh-so wrong just because it feels good. He loves losing himself in pleasure. He loves that he's half-hard just thinking about it - even though he should be disgusted with himself for all that he's done.
How can such disparate traits exist within one person? Such a desire to do right - contrasted with an unquenchable need to indulge in the bad.
He stayed there, staring up at the ceiling - adrift in the battle between the destructiveness of his desires and his admiration for the stability of good form - until his back started to ache from the unforgiving floor.
Picking himself up with a grunt, he set about making preparations for the day. He still needed to put the finishing touches on his sermon - and figure out how he's going to tell the parishioners about the staffing change. Oh, and Lucy.
She tries her best not to seem upset when he tells her, but he can see that she's disappointed - and that stings more than he expected it to.
Eager to get some fresh air and clear his head, he says he's going to step out for a quick coffee at Granny's, and he's hardly out the door before reaching for his phone.
Can you meet me at Granny's? Need to talk.
Emma: Right now?
If you can swing it, yes.
Emma: I'll be there in 10.
It's not even noon and it feels like this day is trying to kill him. He needs to tell Emma what the bishop knows, and that kind of thing demands a face-to-face conversation.
He's there a few minutes before her - his pace quickened by jitters he still hasn't seemed to shake. Maybe a chamomile tea would be better than a coffee right now.
Just as Granny passes a steaming mug to him over the counter he hears the bell of the front door, and there's Emma - pink cheeks showing that she was just as eager as he was.
They slide into a booth at the very end of the diner, her eyes shining with alarm.
"What's going on?"
"I don't mean to panic you, honestly, but I've had a talk with the bishop this morning and he…" Killian's eyes dart from side to side, there's nobody within earshot anyway, but he lowers his voice all the same. "He came by last night. While we were… and we apparently forgot to lock the door."
Emma stares blankly at him as her mouth drops open in horror.
"I don't know how much trouble we're in, or who he's told - or what's going to happen. But I thought you should know right away."
"Well, what can they do? I mean, you're leaving anyway - right?"
He doesn't have time to answer her before his cell phone is buzzing loudly on the table.
"It's Lucy - hold on a moment, love."
He stands up and absentmindedly paces, and she's left chewing her lip in the booth - trying to calm her pounding heartbeat.
She can overhear him saying "of course, go ahead and patch him through" and then she only catches a few "Yes" and "I understands."
"Father Jones?" Lucy's voice rings through clear as day.
"Hi Lucy, what's up?" He realizes that was terribly informal just a little too late, but he's too scattered to worry about it.
"It's the bishop on the line, can I send him over to your cell?"
"Yes, of course, go ahead and patch him through." Killian's thoughts spin nearly out of control with all the possible reasons he's calling back so quickly.
The line crackles for a moment before the bishop speaks.
"Father Jones?"
"Speaking."
"I've already spoken with the church leadership and they've accepted your resignation - and will have a replacement ready for you to train next week. I didn't want to leave you wondering about their response."
Oh. That's it? No censure, no lecture, no excommunication?
"Father Jones? Can you hear me?"
"Yes, so sorry. Yes I can hear you," he stumbled through his reply.
"Does that work for you, Father Jones?"
"Yes, absolutely. Thank you, Most Reverend. And, uhm…" he goes to scratch behind his ear, but he's been doing it so much today that it's already raw and his fingers twitch back at the hint of pain it brings. "About the other night…"
"Relax, Killian. You'd be surprised how often that happens." A touch of levity had returned to the bishop's voice. "You needn't worry about the… indiscretion - I'll keep it to myself for the sake of the church's reputation, but please refrain from indulging until you are no longer in our employ."
Oh, thank God for that.
"Yes, of course. I understand. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Oh, and Father Jones?"
"Yes?"
"Good luck."
His hands are still shaking - even though the worst is over. He's in a daze as he all but shuffles back to Emma, who has now taken to chewing on her nails to soothe her anxiety.
"Was that the bishop?" She asks nervously.
"Yes, but it's all OK. He isn't going to tell anyone." Killian responds over the buzzing in his ears - still reeling from fear and adrenaline.
"Wait, why?" Emma's brow is knit in confusion - she knows too much about people to think that the bishop would keep something like that to himself out of sheer kindness. There's got to be something in it for him.
"He said for the sake of the church's reputation. A scandal doesn't help them - which, actually makes a lot of sense. I'm sorry to have worried you for nothing - I just… I was kind of freaking out."
For the first time since they'd made it to the diner, she took a minute to actually look at him, and he looked so very different from the man she knew last night. His features were drawn with worry, he looked five years older - tired, weakened. He didn't look at all himself.
She knew he was stressed about talking to the bishop in the first place, now with all of… that… she can only imagine the kind of terror and that must've coursed through him - and she wished she could've been there for him all along.
For her, it was just embarrassing, for him - it certainly meant the end of his position in the Catholic church (no going back now), if not excommunication or condemnation from the religion that has been his life's work.
She reached out under the table to grasp his hand - and it broke her heart to feel him trembling in her grasp.
"Hey," she squeezed gently, forcing him to look up into her eyes. "It's going to be OK. You heard him. We're OK."
He nodded weakly.
"Tell you what," she continued. "You're going to call Lucy and tell her you're not feeling well. I'll call Graham and do the same. We can go back to your place and just be us. Would you like that?"
He nodded again, realizing that he likely wouldn't get any work done anyway, and he was just too emotionally exhausted to deal with any parishioners who might need him anyway.
Lucy sounded skeptical over the phone, but the moment she saw him trudging into the church to collect a few things, she all but ordered him to go home - insisting that she drive him rather than let him walk.
She even picked up some chicken noodle soup and brought it to him before heading back to work. That woman was truly an angel.
Emma came by about an hour later after finishing up some important paperwork. Graham just chuckled and mumbled some Ferris Bueller's Day Off joke before letting her leave.
When she got there he was curled up on the couch under a ratty blanket, staring at the wall - clearly lost in his thoughts. It had been a while since she'd seen him like this - but all too quickly she remembered all of those times he had struggled with his conscience and his guilt about their attraction. That's what he looked like now. All pain and melancholy. None of the light she'd come to see in him.
She curled up next to him wordlessly, stroking the hair at his temple in gentle sweeps. She tried to just sit in silence and let him think, but eventually her curiosity gave way.
"Killian, you can tell me. What's going on?"
He finally broke his gaze from the wall and looked at her longingly - like she wasn't really there.
"What if it's too much?" He sighs out.
"What if what's too much?" She has no idea what he's talking about.
"What I've done. Who I am. I'm not a good guy." His eyes are fixed on something far away again. The self-loathing she'd seen so many times bubbling back up to the surface.
"Hey, you know I don't care about any of that. I like you just the way you are." She soothed. "Besides, you're not alone in any of this. I was here too."
"But... what if God can't forgive me? I mean, I'm a priest - I know better. I know that I shouldn't and yet I still do it." He ran his hand through his hair roughly. "You didn't ever sign on for this. I did. I believe in this - in heaven and hell, in right and wrong. What if he can't forgive me?"
Tears were springing up into her eyes at his words, she wanted so desperately to comfort him, to tell him it would all be OK. That he was a good man.
"Killian, you know I'm not a very 'religious' person. But I've learned a little being around you - and the God that I hear you talk about - he doesn't ask for people to be perfect. He doesn't need you to be perfect. I don't need you to be perfect."
He sighed heavily and leaned into her. He knew she was right - but sometimes he felt like he would be crushed under the mounting weight of his errors and sin.
"Truly, love?"
She smiled - she was finally getting him to relax.
"And what if I'm always messed up? What if I always give in to temptation?"
"God will still love you, Killian. As will I." She didn't even realize she'd said it until it was already out. It was mere hours ago that she was dragging her feet about admitting that she might be kind-of sorta falling for him - and out it came anyway.
His eyes snapped open - lids that were heavy just a moment ago jolting open at the realization of what she'd said.
"Did you…" he almost wasn't sure if he'd heard her right.
Panic overtook her for a brief moment before she decided not to let her fear get the best of her. After all, fear is what turned Killian into this emotional wreck today - and she despised that so much of their relationship had been tainted by it.
"Yes. I said I love you. I'll love you no matter what sins you get yourself into." She smiled - the enormous weight of attempting to corral her feelings out of self-preservation finally lifted.
"Say it again, love" he pulled her into his chest tightly, his heart thumping steadily under her ear as she nuzzled into him.
"I love you. I'm with you. You'll always have me."
He was incredibly embarrassed at the rogue tear that slipped down his cheek, and when she pushed up from his chest and caught it with the soft pad of her thumb, he leaned forward and kissed her passionately.
She sighed into his movements and turned her hips to settle on top of his, granting him better access to her. He rested his damaged arm on her hip, while his good hand gripped her tight enough to leave marks.
He felt an overwhelming need to show her just how much he loved her, how much he adored her, how important it was that she accepted him - just as he was.
They spent what felt like an eternity just kissing each other, reveling in the sensation of finally being able to truly express the depth of their feelings.
The day had been such an emotional roller-coaster for him, he could hardly believe that they ended up here - with her declaration of love and their kisses slowly become more and more needy.
He didn't miss the way she started slowly moving her hips in tight little circles, pressing further up into his lap until the seam of her jeans was rubbing into his rock hard length. He groaned at the increased pressure and started tilting up into her ever so lightly.
"God, love - so gorgeous" he whispered to her, so breathily she almost didn't hear.
At his encouragement she pulled her shirt up over her head, giving him a glorious view of her toned stomach and perky chest as she flung the clothing aside.
She fixed her eyes on his hungrily and snaked her arms around the back of his head, her elbows pushing into her breasts just enough to show off her cleavage.
"I love you, Killian - and not just because you're hot as hell" she teased, and he felt his cock pulse at her rough language. "But because you're a good man. You make me want to be a better woman - you make me want to be gentle, and soft - and I didn't know I had that in me."
He smiled up at her - touched by the sentiment, if not a little… distracted by the fact that she was still moving her hips in that incredibly sensual way.
He kissed her languidly - pouring every ounce of love and devotion into the twisting and tangling of their tongues. He couldn't wait any longer. He felt like he would burst if he didn't make love to her right now.
So he swept her up and carried her bridal style to the bed, whispering praises as he laid her down softly, covering her supple body with his toned one.
They disrobed slowly, each pressing reverent kisses to the newly exposed skin.
When he got to her panties he slipped the delicate material down her lean legs and kissed his way back up to suck lightly at her sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing the wave of wetness that he caused, lapping at her folds in a way that had her squirming.
"That's - ooooh - not what I - ugh - not what I want," she tugged lightly at his hair, pulling him up her body until his cock was nudging at her entrance.
She was still holding onto his hair as his eyes found hers - a slim sapphire-blue ring of color sparkling around his dilated pupils as he gazed at her with immeasurable adoration and devotion.
"I've wanted this for so long," he admitted to her. "Not just to have sex, but to make love to you. To worship you the way you deserve."
Such praises still made her a little uncomfortable, nobody had ever talked to her like that before. But even now she was learning to appreciate the way he spoke about her.
"May I?" After all the things they'd done together, it seemed funny for him to ask permission, but they both knew this time was different. This wasn't fueled by lust, but rather by love - and that made all the difference in the world.
She nodded and smiled up at him, pressing her lips into his softly as he slowly pushed into her with a moan - she was soaked for him, and he slid completely into her with ease.
"Oh, God, love" he hissed, pulling out until just the very tip of him was still seated in her.
She already missed the feeling of fullness he gave her, and she whimpered a little at the absence.
"You're divine" he praised her as he inched back in, cataloguing every drag of his cock along her silky walls, the feeling of being settled so deeply in her that he bottomed out.
She normally wasn't one for slow and sensual lovemaking, but the way he moved in her - the way his hand roamed her body, as if memorizing every little curve - had her tantalizingly close to that golden edge.
It was about now that he'd usually pick up the pace, but he continued to torment her with deliberately long and slow strokes - letting all of his insecurities fall away and focusing on the incredible woman before him.
He looked down at her, golden hair splayed out around her, the alabaster skin of her chest flushed pink, the gentle curve of her waist, the way her legs wrapped around him - and then his eyes locked on the sight of his length disappearing into her.
It was incredibly erotic to watch himself plunge into her over and over, taking him in like they were designed to fit together just right.
He swallowed thickly and brought his good hand to his mouth, licking his fingertips and bringing them down to the point where they were joined.
She cried out when his thumb traced light circles over her clit - she was already wound so tightly - and now this.
"Oh God, Killian" she watched the way his eyes lit up at her vocal response - and while he kept his hips at the same slow and steady pace, he moved his thumb quicker over her until she could feel her orgasm approaching.
"That's it Emma" his features grew serious as he focused on bringing her over the edge with him - his own orgasm threatening to overtake him at any moment.
She bucked up into him and the dam burst - intense waves of pleasure coursing through her as she cried out his name while her inner walls clenched and spasmed around him - sending him over the edge with her. He grunted as he kept snapping his hips, every muscle in his body tensed as he fell - and she swore that even through the intensity of her own orgasm she could feel rope after rope of his seed forcefully pulsing into her.
He held himself above her as they caught their breath, until his arms started shaking with the effort and he rolled to the side to lay next to her.
She curled into him and laid her head on his chest, pressing a kiss to the wiry hairs that grew there.
"I love you, Killian. And I'm proud of you." She said quietly.
"I love you too, Emma. Always and forever."