Confidants

By Donna and Toni

As Philip knelt at the altar rail immersed in his morning prayers, he included one for Sarah Jo, as he said he would. A part of his thoughts were always with the young-looking Immortal, especially since he'd helped her to realize that what had happened to her was not her fault; he could only hope that his words had helped her to find some peace. God knew she deserved it. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't even hear another person enter the church and quietly walk up the aisle toward him.

Fiona slipped into the church and headed to light a candle for the souls of the children and all the others that had died during the bombing she had miraculously survived. She noticed Father Philip at his prayers of course and smiled, remembering all the joking and fun they had had at the wedding dance.

But now was a bit quieter occasion than that, and as she heard the young priest sigh softly, still unaware of her presence, her brows knitted slightly with concern. His body language spoke of a burden of his own, and of course her first instinct was to see if she could help in any way.

She finished her prayers, and after crossing herself, hesitantly approached the kneeling priest. She didn't want to intrude, but when she saw his shoulders shake, she had to say something. "Father, are you all right? Is there anything I can do to help?"

He was a bit startled; he hadn't realized she was even there, or he would have tried to control himself a little better. He wiped quickly at his eyes, and told her, "I'll be all right, Fiona; thank you. I was just....while I was consoling Sarah Jo, I told her about someone who… who died by her own hand when I told her I would be taking my final vows as a priest. Thoughts of her popped up again while I was saying prayers for my brother, Michael; today's the anniversary of his death."

"Wasn't I here to pray for the ones who died at the home in Dublin?" she said with a sad sigh. "And me being the only survivor."

This got his attention, and he asked, "Survivor? If I'm not bein' too nosy, what happened there?"

A dark cloud seemed to cross her face as she composed herself. "I was the daughter of a wealthy landowner in the Connemara. Me Da sent me to Dublin to the college there, so I could get a decent education. While I was there, I got involved with a refuge house that the church was running for the orphans and widows of them that had died during all The Troubles. One morning, when we were having classes for the children, a convoy of the British came by, and someone set off a bomb..." Tears started to trickle down her beautiful face.

Instinctively, he put an arm around her and held her close, or as much as he could as they both knelt at the railing side by side, and said softly "Oh my God....Michael died helpin' some schoolchildren whose building had just been bombed. One of the teachers was important in British society, and their car was set to explode as soon as they started it, which was just as school was lettin' out for the day. He wasn't hurt in the initial blast, but when a second bomb went off, maybe as some sort of backup for th' first one....he was so busy helpin' the children to safety he didn't notice how close he'd gotten to that second one. He left a wife and two small children of his own at home....I often wonder how Maggie and the boys are gettin' along, now that neither of us are no longer there. It was his death that was one of the decidin' factors for me to enter the priesthood; so I could dedicate my life to helpin' anyone who needed it, the way he died tryin' to do. Sort of my tribute to him, ya might say." He handed her his handkerchief, and told her, "Stay with me awhile, and we'll pray together for all the innocent souls that were lost that day." If he'd felt he had things in common with this woman before, this made that feeling even more a certainty.

The two of them knelt side by side, praying not only for the innocents who had so tragically died in a senseless civil war, but also for the survivors of the acts of terrorism, and for the persons who had committed those horrible acts. After their prayers had ended, Father Philip and Fiona both crossed themselves and stood. "Will ye be wantin' to come and ha' tea with me in the garden?" she asked. "I would like to hear more about yer brother and the work that he was doing."

A lot of women had been attracted to the handsome priest, back on Earth; Nick had even teased him it was the Roman collar that did it, gave them a challenge to overcome. He thought of this now, and couldn't help the small smile that curved his mouth, as he told the beautiful young woman in front of him, "I'd like that very much, Fiona; Michael would've liked you. He worked more on the administrative side of things, tryin' to make things better for th' children of Belfast through Social Services, but it wasn't uncommon for him ta find some child cryin' lost in the streets and tell them not to cry, they'd find his or her mum, and then take 'em to the nearest constabulary. He always did all he could to help, in any way he could." Then the smile got a little bigger, as he asked, "Could I escort you somewhere, Miss McFadden? Until we can have our tea, we can at least chat that way. I don't have any duties until the afternoon Mass at mid-afternoon, now that Father Alec is up and about."

"Wasn't I just going back to the garden?" she said with a grin. "Ye can be after walkin' me home if ye like. And we can talk while I fix our tea."

His own matching grin appeared, as he told her, "That'd be very nice, thank ya." He offered the young woman his arm, she took it, and together, they started walking slowly off in the direction of her home. Philip could not recall when he'd been happier in a very long time!

Of the four priests living in Edan, only one, Father Herrera seemed dead set against the idea of Edan’s priests being able to marry. And he was the one that was actually having the hardest time controlling himself! Hydra and Herrera were now *very* close.

As for Philip, the more time he spent around Fiona, the more he became convinced they could follow the traditions of ancient times and have a man be married to both a woman and his calling. After all, it was God who gave us the ability to love! He had often envied other religions that flexibility with their clergy.

The couple soon reached Fiona's cottage, and as they entered, he asked, "The place looks a little bigger than th' last time I was here. Must be the remodeling you did with your house guests," he smiled, as he sat down at the table and watched her fill the teapot.

"Wasn't I out walkin' in the garden, and when I came back I found it like this! But now there is room for me Fae friends." She missed her privacy at times, but at the same time, she was enjoying their company.

"I'm glad t'hear it. I sometimes worried about you livin' all alone here; I know the church isn't far, and the ladies were always around, but....it's just better to have someone stayin' with ya." He blushed very slightly, as he realized how that could be taken; a lot of the time, that was a way of saying there should be a man living in the home, to take care of his woman. But if there was one woman that looked like she could take care of herself, it was this one!

Fiona laughed. "The garden is as safe of a place on this world as er' could be. The Fae will no let anyone but a trusted few come in." As the water heated, she set out a platter of fruit tarts on the table, along with some homemade Irish soda bread and blackberry jam.  

He waited till the tea was ready before eating, as his Ma had taught him long ago, and when it had been poured, he looked at the cup, then looked around, and asked, in a whisper, "This, ah, isn't Hydra's special water, is it?" He hoped they weren't around invisible somewhere and could hear him!

Fiona laughed merrily, and put her finger on the side of her nose. "Now that would be tellin' wouldn't it?" But as the sound of her laughter washed over him and her smile lit all the dark corners of his existence, he found that he didn't really care if it was or not!

Of course he couldn't tell her this; he didn't want her to think that that was all he wanted from her. She had a wonderful mind, and a quick wit, and a tongue that reminded him very much of the way his Ma used to keep his Da "in line", though he never seemed to mind it much, judging by the loving smile he'd give her after she'd issued her "orders".  

He wondered if he would ever be lucky enough to have that kind of relationship with a woman; so far he'd had one broken engagement when he first entered the seminary (though she'd made up for it by breaking his nose when he told her), and then there'd been Ellen, just before taking his final vows.....that was the one that he was having the hardest time forgiving himself for, despite all the work that had been done by Father John, and Derek and Nick on him. He had no idea what made him do it, but he suddenly needed the comfort of touch, from the woman sitting before him; tentatively, he reached out and laid his hand lightly over hers. He looked at her intently, saying softly, "I hope y'don't mind; I mean ya no harm, I swear."  

She raised an eyebrow put made no effort to pull away. "Aren't you a bold one? And ye being a priest and all!" There was no disapproval in her eyes as she met his intense gaze with one of her own, just curiosity. "Would ye mind tellin' me what this is about, Philip?" She was talking to him now as a woman to a man, not a parishioner to her priest.  

He stared down at the table for a long moment, and, without raising his eyes, he said softly, "I just....I was thinkin' about how much in love my Ma and Da were, and whether or not I would ever be lucky enough to find that kind of happiness, especially after my track record - one broken engagement before I entered my trainin', and then....then Ellen, just before my final vows. I know I made my choice, and I've no right to be thinkin' that way as long as I wear this collar, but....Please don't take this the wrong way, Fiona, but you're th' same kind of woman my Ma was. Beautiful, smart, witty....and with the most caring heart I've ever seen after hers. I guess I just....even if it comes to naught because I am a priest, I just wanted to touch you, and feel your carin' that way. Sounds pretty crazy, doesn't it?" He fully expected her to pull away from him, though he knew she was too polite to ask him to leave; he felt the haze of tears in his eyes as he still could not look at her. 

Fiona was quiet for a moment, but she never took her eyes off of him as she kept her hand still underneath his. His words had caught her by surprise. "I understand," she finally said, turning her hand over so that she could hold his hand in hers. She squeezed it and smiled at him encouragingly.  

He looked up at her, surprise in his eyes at her reaction, and as a tear dripped out and splashed onto their hands, he wiped at his eyes quickly and told her, "I'm sorry; here you thought you were going t'have a pleasant conversation with a guest, and I'm turnin' your afternoon into a soap opera, with th' sad story of my life. It's a good thing you're so patient, or I'd no doubt find myself out on my backside by now." A little smile made its way through, as he was determined not to depress this poor woman any more than he had. 

"And don't ye be thinkin' I wouldn't toss ye out on yer arse if I thought ye deserved it! But you don't. But let me ask you one thing Philip. Did you join the priesthood to please others, or was it to please yerself?"  

He thought about it a moment, then told her, "It was my own decision. After Michael died, I entered the priesthood because I needed to strengthen my faith; I couldn't understand why God would let this happen to a man whose only desire was to help others, a good man who had a wife and children. I needed to believe again, and I also thought it would be the best way to carry on his dream, that of helping as many as I could in the time I had. No one forced me ta do it." 

"Have ye found yer faith then?" she asked, still holding his hand firmly. She had sought the solitude of that lonely cottage in the rugged region of Connemara for much the same reasons after the horror in Dublin that she alone had survived.  

"I did; Father John took me under his wing, and helped me to find my way again. He was the kindest, gentlest man, and he was always there for me when I needed to talk ta him, about anything. He was - he was killed by a serial murderer, to get revenge on me for turning him in to the police." He didn't see the need to mention that said serial murderer had been dead at the time, courtesy of the gas chamber, and it was his evil spirit that had actually performed the act. If she remained friends with him, he was sure she'd learn enough about his adventures with the Legacy, eventually. 

"I will light a candle fer the peaceful rest of his soul as well then," she said with a soft sigh. "I don't even begin to claim to know any of the answers, Philip, but when we have friends like you had Father John, it helps us get through the dark times in our lives. If ever ye need to talk, yer always welcome here in me house. Don't ye be forgettin' that now!" Her eyes twinkled as she spoke.  

"I wouldn't dare, Fiona; I'd be more afraid of incurrin' your wrath than I would be that of the Fae themselves!" he laughed. It felt so right to be here with her, teasing and laughing like they'd known each other for years. Maybe, with her added onto his "helper" list in getting him to feel better about himself, he would achieve that very goal.