Short!fic - Time Has Come
Title: Time Has Come
Author: Ry (curseangel / dreamsforlease
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Deathfic, dark.
Characters/Pairings: Pastor Jim Murphy; John and the boys are mentioned.
Summary: Yay, minor character love. Kind of crappy/choppy, but I'm putting it up anyway. Thoughts on death and what may bring it. Or, Ry's messing with the tenses again.
He has almost been waiting for this. It's in a subtle way, as one might wait for something and know, at the same time, both that it may never happen, and that you are, in fact, dreading it. But he dislikes the term "dread". He doesn't like to fear whatever path he's been given to tread. There are very few things that he fears, for that reason as well as simple preparedness, knowing what's out there and how to take care of most of it.
He knew the risk of helping that man the moment he reached out to him, invited him inside. He knew who - what - that boy was when he first let them stay with him. He's always known better than anyone that destinies change, that nothing is certain except that there is uncertainty in life, though, and he never let what little knowledge he had influence his treatment of the boy. After all, they were suspicions, and he was far from pure enough to cast stones.
It comes back, as it always has, to bite him. He knew that it would. But he couldn't turn them away then, and he knows that if the situation had reversed, they would help him, and he won't betray them.
So when she comes into his church, when she reveals what she is, he knows that his time has come. What he's been waiting for has finally arrived. He goes for his supplies, for holy water or something to turn her away with. He doesn't make it.
She asks him to betray them, to turn them in. He knows what she wants, and he refuses. Maybe he thinks he knows how influential they will be. Maybe he is driven only by the loyalty of a very old friend. Maybe it doesn't matter at all, in the end.
He doesn't give them up, and he dies. He doesn't regret it.
He goes with a prayer silent in his mind, eyes staring forever at the ceiling, for them, and for whatever might receive him.
Author: Ry (curseangel / dreamsforlease
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Deathfic, dark.
Characters/Pairings: Pastor Jim Murphy; John and the boys are mentioned.
Summary: Yay, minor character love. Kind of crappy/choppy, but I'm putting it up anyway. Thoughts on death and what may bring it. Or, Ry's messing with the tenses again.
He has almost been waiting for this. It's in a subtle way, as one might wait for something and know, at the same time, both that it may never happen, and that you are, in fact, dreading it. But he dislikes the term "dread". He doesn't like to fear whatever path he's been given to tread. There are very few things that he fears, for that reason as well as simple preparedness, knowing what's out there and how to take care of most of it.
He knew the risk of helping that man the moment he reached out to him, invited him inside. He knew who - what - that boy was when he first let them stay with him. He's always known better than anyone that destinies change, that nothing is certain except that there is uncertainty in life, though, and he never let what little knowledge he had influence his treatment of the boy. After all, they were suspicions, and he was far from pure enough to cast stones.
It comes back, as it always has, to bite him. He knew that it would. But he couldn't turn them away then, and he knows that if the situation had reversed, they would help him, and he won't betray them.
So when she comes into his church, when she reveals what she is, he knows that his time has come. What he's been waiting for has finally arrived. He goes for his supplies, for holy water or something to turn her away with. He doesn't make it.
She asks him to betray them, to turn them in. He knows what she wants, and he refuses. Maybe he thinks he knows how influential they will be. Maybe he is driven only by the loyalty of a very old friend. Maybe it doesn't matter at all, in the end.
He doesn't give them up, and he dies. He doesn't regret it.
He goes with a prayer silent in his mind, eyes staring forever at the ceiling, for them, and for whatever might receive him.