Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Broken Wing Alternates ❯ BWA: Forgiveness ( Chapter 2 )

Authors Notes: Everybody confused so far? Good! Don't worry, these will begin to make some sense once I get into the actual story of Mended Wing. For now just enjoy these freaky ones, okies? And the only Bible things I actually know are the first part of the Lord's Prayer and John 3:16. So bear with me!

Disclaimers: Don't own 'em.

Broken Wing Alternates: Forgiveness

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one day since my last confession."

Oh, Heavenly Father, not HER again.

Father Duo lowered his head into his hand, grateful for the exquisitely carved screen set between himself and the girl kneeling in the other side of the booth. Were she looking hard, she may see his head bowed, but would most likely think it only in prayer for her and her horribly damned soul.

"Yesterday, Father, I ate two chocolate bars when I knew I should have only eaten half of one."

Oh yes, she surely followed the fast track to Hell, all right. At this rate she'd wake up bathed in flames by the morrow. Father Duo rolled his eyes to the confessional ceiling and prayed as hard as he'd ever prayed for anything. This time he prayed for patience. Lots of patience.

"Then, Father," her voice drifted in through his thoughts, "then . . . I . . . I . . . didn't help an old woman cross the street!"

Lots and LOTS of patience.

Another half hour droned on while this regular patron of the Maxwell Church listed the smallest slights as major sins, and Father Duo wondered what real sin plagued her soul that she had to confess to telling someone the wrong time. At long, long last she ended her daily spiel and he awarded her what she most craved: a healthy penance to atone for her imagined misdeeds. Once she left, tears streaming down her cheeks, Duo sighed and stepped out from his cramped booth. Stretching his legs, the young man smiled to see Sister Helen approach.

"Duo," she bowed her head demurely and smiled.

"Sister Helen."

"We have a problem, Father Duo," she said, face straightening into seriousness.

"What is it? I'll do anything I can to help."

"Frank Knowles is dying, and Father Maxwell is still ill, so cannot make the trip to give him the Last Rites." She looked on him with sympathetic eyes as he gulped, indigo eyes flickering nervously towards the church doorway. "You're the only one left who's qualified."

To go outside, to leave the church walls, to have to confront . . . them. The very thought of seeing their faces and hearing their laughter frightened him, even as a priest. Especially as a priest. There was nothing to be done, however; one of his parishioners needed him, and to deny his help would be to break a sacred trust between priest and worshiper. That prospect hurt him worse than the thought of going outside, and Father Duo steeled himself into a pillar.

"I'll go."

Sister Helen smiled a bit more brightly and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"You'll be fine. There's nothing to fear; you're strong."

He nodded and gave her a wavering smile that faded away as soon as she turned and left. He sighed nervously and reached for the tip of his braid, only to find nothing but empty air. He'd finally allowed the Sister to cut it off when he attained full priesthood. Times like these he wished terribly that he still had a braid tip to chew on or just twist between his fingers. I wish I had as much faith in my own strength as you do, Sister.

He spent the next half hour getting ready for his walk to the Knowles' and praying fervently for the strength to get past . . . them.

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

Down the street, keeping walking, don't listen. The Heavenly Father gives strength, we only have to ask. Through him we can do all things, even walk down the street and ignore them and their laughter and jeering and insults.

The groups of two or three were mild, not that bad, almost nice in their own way. In pink skirts and chaste pink or white shirts, they held their books to those shapely chests and looked appreciatively his way. Clean hair shimmered in the colony lights all in shades of sunny gold, bright brown, fiery red, and the occasional silken black. They giggled, sometimes even blushing brightly as he passed by, and he could hear them whispering behind him. These were alright, he could handle them, even if they sent an uncomfortable twinge through his body.

The others . . . oh the others . . . the tight-skirted, crimson-lipped, Jezebels of L2 . . . those were the ones he tried most to avoid. They didn't settle for standing by the buildings and giving him demure looks from underneath fluttering eyelashes. They couldn't stand for simply whispering as he passed by. No, these sinful Jezebels had to approach him, lay their dirty fingers on him and speak directly into his ear.

"Hey, Father, what's a hot guy like you doin' in a robe like that, huh?"

"Father Duo, I can show you what I real duo is like."

"C'mon, Father, I could use your services."

He closed his eyes against them, gritted his teeth and pushed through. From every side he felt their presence, their groping fingers, trying to grab him in places he was quite certain no priest should ever be touched. Moments like this he blessed the absence of his braid, what would have been an easy handhold for their dingy digits. Perhaps those hands weren't really dirty, but in his mind he saw them all covered in a thin, almost invisible layer of filth. Filth that would rub off on him if he weren't careful enough or fast enough.

"Go away," he moaned under his breath, aware that his body, deprived of what these women offered, wanted nothing more than to turn to them and accept. All the more reason to get through them. "Our Father who art in Heaven," he yelled at the top of his lungs, hoping the sound of his own voice would drown out theirs, "hallowed be thy name!" Maybe if her were lucky, they would be driven away from the holy words by their demonic natures. "Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven!" Oh please, dear Heavenly Father, dear Lord and Savior, let them go away! Please, please, please oh please! Go away just go away! He kept going, feet picking the pace up from a fast walk into an almost panicked run. Bible enclosed in his arms to his chest, Father Duo ran with eyes closed, tears tracking down his cheeks.

"Father! Hey Father, wait!" A male voice. That fact registered slowly on his brain, that a male voice called to him, not the devious female voices he ran from. He slowed, panting as his legs settled into a walk again, then finally stopped altogether. He opened his eyes and saw Luke Knowles, Frank's son, standing outside the family's apartment, waving a bulky hand his way. The young man's large face twisted to form an expression of concern as Duo approached, cheeks stinging with the chilly trails of shed tears. "Everything alright, Father?"

Duo nodded, wiping his face with one hand, and climbed the stairs up to the main door.

End Broken Wing Alternates: Forgiveness.