The Father and The Son

[Mercure]

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Father Guillame Leon received the call at five-forty-five, just as was preparing to retire to his office for a light supper. Jennie, his assistant of over twenty years, poked her head in through the door and without so much as looking up from her paperwork told him that he had an urgent phone call. Guillame sighed. They were having trout, his favourite, and he had not eaten lunch.

"Take a message Jennie." He instructed in his pretty French, waving a weathered hand at the matronly woman. "I will call back later."

"I think you'd better take this call, Father." Jennie paused long enough to give him a significant look and then shut the door, saying over her shoulder that it was on line one.

So the priest had said a word of prayer for patience and long-suffering, then set his wrapped plate aside and picked up the receiver. He was not surprised by the brisk French voice on the other end, but he was quite unprepared for the nature of the intrusion. Issachar Aloise had frequently occupied his thoughts over the years, but he had scarcely expected to be hearing about the boy much less hearing that he wanted to see him.

It was very important. Guillame's heart pounded; for years they, all those who manned the boys home, had waited for word that Issachar had died or been killed. The nature of his mutation made it highly probably that he would, and combined with the very nature of the boy himself such a fate was practically guaranteed.

Still, it was startling news. He listened silently to a brief description of what had happened, shifting in his seat. When it was finished, the Father cleared his throat. "I see. And when is the funeral?" He would be sure to give a fitting eulogy.

There was a pause before he was informed impatiently that there would be no funeral, that Aloise was still alive though severely injured. Guillame felt his chest unbind slightly.

"And you are sure he wishes to see me?" He asked, picking a speck of lint from his dark jacket. The voice confirmed the strange request. Guillame nodded. "Yes, yes, I will be there as soon as I can. Yes, thank you. You may leave details with my secretary. Thank you. Goodbye."

He hung up the phone and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. A feeling of dread was settling in the pit of his stomach and an hour later, when Jennie came in to collect his dishes she found his food quite untouched. The priest shook off her concerns. "A slight stomachache, I will have some tea to settle it later."

Issachar wanted to see him. Why?

* * * *

A week later, staring down at the unconscious form in the infirmary bed, Father Leon couldn't help but grimace; Issachar was bound up like a mummy but his laboured breathing and the violent appearance of his lips were enough to fuel the Catholic's imagination. He'd seen what happened to the boy when he lost control. It was not something he wished to see again.

"It pains me to see him so." His English was near-perfect, hinting at an education spent abroad. The priest clasped his hands neatly in front of him and watched intently as an IV bag dripped steadily into a line running under Issachar's bandages. "Though I fear that I may carry part of the blame."

He sighed then, a weighty sound that seemed to take a great deal out of the man. Guillame raised his eyes at the others in the room. "He did not tell you why he wanted me? Didn't give a reason?"

[Evelyn Cato]

There had been something she'd seen in his eyes from the first moment she had seen him, something that - despite being so engulfed in the fury of his powers - was of such pleading that it was impossible to turn away from.

She had been sure to make daily visits to the room he'd been placed in. She spoke softly to him in french, even if he could not reply. She read to him.

In his state it was all that she could think of to do. Such destruction to his body at the hands of his own power worried Evelyn, but such thoughts she kept to herself. Why had he not chosen to try and learn of his gift, instead simply going on about his daily life as a janitor for Cullen's? It seemed that being in such close quarters with those that could help would make a person strive to control what they had been given. But, those were questions that could not be answered immediately, and she fell back on her patience; she would ask him when he was able and willing to answer.

Another thought had nagged away at the back of her mind, and it stayed with her through each day that passed since the incident. She went about her own activities, taught her classes, read, had coffee and shared a cigarette with Henri every few days, but still it ate away at her, this concern for Issachar. Perhaps it was the wild nature of his power, or the fact that he seemed to have so little control over it. More than likely however it was that very same pleading that she'd initially seen in his eyes that caused her thoughts to gravitate back to him no matter what she was doing.



She was standing at the far wall of the infirmary room when the Catholic priest arrived. The first thing she'd noticed was the weight of his voice. She had been staring out the window, hands stuffed unceremoniously in the pockets of her jeans before turning to look at him.

"No reason," she started softly in that odd, misplaced accent.

She too had wondered why Issachar had called for the man without reason, but simply attributed it to Issachar wanting something or someone familiar to be near during such a time. Often enough there needn't be any particular reason for a desire such as that. Of course, that did not mean there wasn't, and only Issachar would be able to answer that.

She partially turned to face the priest with a gentle expression.

"You would have to wait until he can answer you if you wish to know."

[Mercure]

The boy's silence was a small blessing. Guillame exhaled his deep relief, disguising it with a concerned expression that was not entirely contrived. It was all a bit of a gamble this - balancing on a knife held by an unconscious man with unfathomable supplications.

He had not strayed from the bed since he had been shown in two hours ago, and he felt the cold tingle above his knees as his legs went numb. Guillame stood with as much grace as his aging bones would allow and cast a kindly smile towards the woman. He had quite forgotten her name.

"It is heartwarming to see the care--" The priest broke off suddenly as an iron clamp cinched around his arm. Issachar's eyes were wide open, bright with fever, and he was shaking with the effort of holding himself up a few mere inches off the matress.

"Que m'ont-ils fait?" The man rasped frantically. "Que leur avez-vous permis de me faire?"

Guillame stiffened and wrapped one of his large hands over Issachar's, trying to loosen the younger man's grip. Before he had even freed a finger the boy had fallen back and lay unmoving once more.

So. Issachar knew. Guillame crossed himself, faintly.

It was too much to ask that the words had been misunderstood. Clearly disturbed, the priest stepped back, distancing himself so that Issachar could not repeat his Lazarus-like seizure.

"He will be fine, you must understand." Guillame pursed his lips together and gestured at the wrappings. "These are quite uneccessary."

Drawing from every reserve of inner peace he had, and silently asking that more be granted him, the priest forced his rich baritone voice to steady.

"Tell me, has Issachar disclosed anything about his past?"

[Evelyn Cato]

Evelyn had opted to stay despite the priest's arrival, and had offered only a small amount of verbal company. For most of the past hour however she had stayed beside the window, staring at the reflection of the Catholic as he sat at Isachar's bedside. It was a tranquil scene, all told, and she allowed it to consume her thoughts.

Without the knowledge of where Issachar had come from, the arrival of a Catholic priest was nothing more than a piece of a puzzle that had presented itself.

The sudden outburst made her turn about quickly however, and she watched without taking a step toward either one.

And when Issachar fell back once more, her eyes went from the priest to the boy, then back to the priest. There was a patient, questioning look in her gaze, but she held no inclinations of voicing any sort of query. The past returned in its' own time, and to rush such a thing was unwise. She would not forget the words that had been spoken, but she would certainly not repeat them. It was simply the way matter of this nature functioned.

It was as the priest spoke of the bandages that she took her first step toward the bed.

"The bandages and wrappings I can do little about; you must speak with the medical staff if you would like them removed."

Evelyn did not stop at the opposite side of the bed from the priest. Instead, she came to stand before him.

"He has said nothing of where he came from."

There was no mistaking the effects that Issachar's words had had.

"I suspect," she began, "that you and I should take a walk."

[Mercure]

Guillame gave a brief nod and, casting a hooded glance at his once-ward, held the door open for Evelyn.

Out in the corridor he fell a half-step behind the woman and allowed her to more or less direct their meandering. The man was not familiar with his surroundings and even if he had been he was too preoccupied with the heavy thoughts that were spiraling in his mind. Evelyn seemed content to wait out his silence.

Where to start?

"We knew when he was brought to us," Guillame said with some difficulty, his voice grinding like a worn engine, "That there was a good chance that he was a mutant. Naturally we could not be sure, but the sisters at the orphanage had heard things about his mother."

Here the priest paused and turned his penetrating blue eyes to Evelyn. "Of course it did not matter. Issachar was still a child of God."

[Evelyn Cato]

Patience had provided the opening to the past, and Evelyn nodded at Leon's beginning. She kept an easy pace that was neither too fast nor too slow, and clasped her hands together in a loose grip at the small of her back as they walked.

"A child of God; of course."

It was spoken in a neutral tone that held no disdain, but rather a muted gaurd. She was not adverse to the thought of a supreme high being, as she'd pondered the notion countless times over her years. Perhaps it was her knowledge of the world's previous deities that gave her pause in the consideration of a single Almighty. She herself had never been present in Judea during the time of Christ, having already left for the deep south of Africa, and had only heard stories many years after the events had already passed.

It was the mention of Issachar's mother that piqued her curiosity however. As she looked into Leon's blue eyes, Evelyn found a strange sort of peace within them that, despite Issachar's previous words, remained as a steady undercurrent.

"His mother; what sort of things had been heard?"

[Mercure]

"That she," The priest faltered, the faintest of blushes creeping up from his collar, "Was able to influence people - a blessing, in her profession. Her... frequent companions were heard to report that it was almost as if she were reading their minds. There was talk of her being a mutant, but it was never enough to dissuade customers; a prostitute is a prostitute."

A disapproving frown had settled on Guillame's face. "Martine never held with the church but she had the decency to insure that all of her offspring were left in it's care. Issachar is the only one that lived."

They rounded a corner and Guillame suddenly stopped. His face was thoughtful. "Do you believe that we all have a purpose? That we were each given life for a specific reason?"

[Evelyn Cato]

Evelyn chose to say nothing of the blush Leon gave, but she made a mental note of it regardless.

And when he stopped, she did as well. He question caused her to frown thoughtfully, and she brought her arms around to her front, interlocking her fingers. His was a question that had such a broad answer that she was uncertain how best to respond at first.

"In short I believe such a thing," she started after a few moments of silence, "but I also believe that there is much more to it rather than just a simple 'yes' or 'no' answer. One does not need to fulfill their purpose in life to gain any higher status; simply understanding that they have a purpose and striving to fulfill it is often more than enough. It is certainly more to be said for that person than one who voluntarily remains in ignorance of what they were meant to do. Or worse yet, if one knows, yet does nothing."

She hesitated, using the silence to begin walking once more.

"That is only my own personal thoughts on the matter however. Ask any one person and I doubt you would get the same answer twice."

[Mercure]

"You are a wise woman." Guillame's voice held a tenor of respect in it, and underneath it whirled a current of opportunism. He pressed his hands together, the long, elegant fingers meeting and coming to rest momentarily against his lips.

A soft exhalation of breath fell before the man continued. "For many years I did not understand this - what purpose the Holy Spirit had for me. And then Issachar came.

"He was like a messenger." Guillame's eyes began to shine. "I knew then that I was supposed to help children like him, petit indésirables, to progress. They needed a guide to show them their true potential as the next stage of God's creation."

The priest's hands fisted in emphasis. "You must understand: everything I did was with only the best of intentions."

[Veritas]

A rapping sound of cane on concrete sidewalk heralded Henri's approach, and the former Inspector approached Evelyn and her guest. Extinguishing his cigarette before approaching, Henri regarded the priest with his generally no-nonsense demeanor.

"You are Issachar's priest? Welcome to our school. I am Henri Bertrand, a member of the faculty."

[Evelyn Cato]

Any other reply she had was held back as Henri grew closer. What the priet was saying stirred up a curiosity within her at Issachar's past, and the role that this man of the cloth had played in it.

Henri's rather blunt greeting did not surprise her in the least; in her time since coming back she had grown quite used to it. In the past it had been about him, though now it seemed he'd had time to cultivate such behavior. She smiled genially at both men and nodded to Leon.

"Henri. This is Father Guillame Leon."

[Mercure]

Guillame studied Henri for the briefest of seconds before he smiled and nodded. Issachar's priest? Of course, he could play that role. He had to.

The priest held out a hand. "Monsieur. It was you who called me, yes?"

[Veritas]

"Oui."

Henri nodded vaguely, not caring to dawdle before discussing the heart of the matter.

"Issachar had an unfortunate altercation. We are hoping to be able to ease his recovery and to help him. He has had some difficulty in coping with his unique condition."

[Mercure]

"It has been like this since he was young." Leon affirmed, a crease knitting his brows together. "Though we had hoped over time..."

The priest sighed and waved a hand in an almost dismissive fashion. "Well, that does not matter. We were wrong. I do not know if he will ever be able to control it."

A kind tilt to his head lent the man a humble air. "Even with your help."

[Evelyn Cato]

Evelyn pursed her lips at that, and she clasped her hands together in front of her.

"Even if you do not think that we can help, it would be a far greater diservice for us to not attempt to do so."

She breathed in deeply, taking in the afternoon air through her nose and letting it flood her being.

"I have been around for a very long time, Father, and I am used to failures. But they are what make the triumphs so much sweeter to taste. As well, they make us work all the harder for success, and give us knowledge about what will help and what won't."

She smiled.

"Issachar is not lost forever."

[Mercure]

A look flashed across the man's face, but was gone too quickly to be captured. He nodded. "Of course not, and I did not mean to make it seem as though I think so."

"I love him as my own son." The steady timbre of the priest's voice faltered. Guillame barely resisted the urge to tug on his collar, loosen it. "So you must know how difficult it is to say that Issachar, he was not bred to control this particular gift. Contain it yes, we certainly tried to contain it once we--" The priest paused again, and smiled in gentle apology before correcting himself, "Once it was unlocked, but he has never had any mastery over it."

A heavy sigh rolled forth from Leon's lips. "It was too much for him. He never could understand that it was a gift, not a burden."