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Steve stared up at the towering building in front of him, watching the sun sparkle off of a multitude of stained glass windows while simultaneously casting interesting shadows as it warped around the intricate architecture of the spires and crenelations that made him long for his sketch book and a pencil.
He actually had no idea how long he’d been standing there, watching as one well dressed person after another streamed inside - individuals, couples, families, young, and old. He’d watched them enter and exit only for an entirely new wave of people to begin entering through the heavy wooden doors flung open in welcome. The heavy, pressing, hollow sound of bells managing to drown out even the omnipresent overwhelming noise that was New York City even tucked away from the main drag as the building was.
He watched as the priest at the door greeted a young blind man before just happening to look up and catch Steve’s eye from across the street. The priest smiled warmly and made a welcoming gesture. Steve hesitated only a moment before tucking his hands in the pockets of his blazer and turning away, his feet carrying him at a steady clip even as a woman’s voice, just touched with a hint of her Irish heritage, chided him in the back of his mind.
It’s the Lord’s day, Steven Grant Rogers, and we will be thanking Him for the many blessings He has given us, including keeping you alive for one more week. And you will be asking His forgiveness for all the fighting James has had to drag you out of.
oOo
“A troubled soul that one is.”
“Father?”
“Sorry, Matthew, it’s just that a young man has shown up every Sunday for the past month and stands across the street and watches. I’ve seen him when we’ve opened the doors for the first mass and I’ve seen him still standing in the same place as we close the doors after the last morning mass. He never crosses the street, never makes any move to draw closer, merely watches.”
“Do you think he’s scoping out the building? Or maybe stalking someone?”
“Oh, no. No, nothing like that. In fact, he just always looks incredibly sad. As you know, Matthew, sometimes people have to find their own path to God.”
Matt Murdock gave the priest a wry grin. “And sometimes they need a helping hand. You’re not as subtle as you think, Father.”
The priest laughed and clapped the young man on the back. “Only because of those lawyer skills of yours, my boy.”
Matt rolled his eyes behind his glasses, smiling, and made his way inside, his muttered words about “having the blind lead the blind” leaving the old priest laughing merrily as he greeted the next parishioner.
oOo
Steve was lost in his thoughts, in memories both good and bad, yet again as he stood in front of the impressive Catholic Church tucked out of the way on a side street. He’d once again watched as people entered, bells ringing out over the neighborhood, voices calling to each other in greeting, and apparently stood there long enough for them to be exiting now. His mother’s voice chided him once more for not being able to take that first step off the sidewalk and towards the building across the narrow street.
“You know, they welcome everybody; you don’t have to stand outside. Trust me, there’s plenty of seating.”
The sharp tap of something hitting the toe of his boot had Steve’s head jerking to the side just as the young blind man he’d seen the week before spoke, the tip of his cane resting against his shoe. Blushing, he ducked his head, even though the other man couldn’t see his pinkening cheeks. Rubbing the back of his head nervously, he looked over the stranger curiously. The man, dressed in a smart grey suit, was about his height, though much more on the slender side, his brown hair styled in a business-like manner while red tinted glasses hid his eyes. But it was the calm, unjudging expression that the stranger gave him that led him to respond. “It’s not that. I just...I’ve come here every Sunday for the past month and this is as far as I’m able to get. No matter what I tell myself, I can’t manage to make myself cross the street, to actually go in.”
“Are you afraid?”
“What? No! Yes? I...I have no idea.” Steve sighed and looked up, noticing the same priest that had waved at him the previous week was watching them, a smile on his face.
The stranger maneuvered his cane easily around Steve’s still form to tap against the metal bench that was behind them. “Why don’t we sit down for a minute. Mass won’t start up for a while yet. I’m Matt by the way.”
Steve watched as the man transferred his cane to his other hand before holding it out to shake. Taking his hand, Steve was surprised by the number of calluses he could feel, distinctly at odds with the man’s professional appearance. “Steve. And sure, but I don’t want to keep you.”
Matt smiled and shook his head before carefully sitting down on the bench. “Like I said, there’s still plenty of time. Besides, just between you and me, Father would have my hide if I left you standing out here all alone after he told me about you.”
Having just sat down, Steve once more jerked around to stare at the stranger next to him. “What do you mean? Why would he?”
“Shh, it’s nothing sinister, I promise. I was orphaned when I was younger, not quite a little boy, not quite a teen, and nothing but a big ball of rage. Didn’t help that the incident that caused it made me blind too. Father was one of the priests that tended to the orphanage, he helped guide me as best he could; helped me work through my anger at the world and a God who could let something like that happen to me.”
Steve swallowed hard, turning away to stare absently at the church before them. Matt’s words ringing as loud as the church bells through him with familiarity. He forced his hands to unclench, smoothing them over his denim covered thighs as he fought to keep his breathing steady.
Matt’s voice was gentle as he spoke, non-judgemental. Hell, he didn’t even turn towards Steve, leaving him what fragile defences he had and Steve had to wonder what the man’s profession was.
“It’s okay to have doubts, Steve, I think most everybody does at some point, but I know the men and women inside, and they’re more than happy to help you figure things out if you ask. They’re not going to judge you.”
Steve felt like his strings had been cut, and leaned forward, arms braced on his legs as he stared at the cracked concrete between his feet. “I was...very unhealthy when I was a child. I can’t tell you how many times I probably almost died, straining just to take another breath of air while I listened to my mom pray over and over, her fingers playing over her rosary. My mom was the only blood family I had left, and then one day she got sick and never got better, and then...then she was gone. She was one of the best people I’ve ever known in my entire life and I had to watch her suffer. And even as she was suffering, she was praying for me . Praying that I would be able to make it through life to have my own family one day. And I prayed right along with her that she would make it through, that she would be able to live to be that nice old lady that dotes on the neighborhood kids and feeds all the cats. And she still died and I listened to the priest bless her and say more prayers and say all these pretty words that meant nothing because my mother was...was gone.” Steve felt that old helpless anger that used to fill his small broken body to overflowing, pushing him to find any outlet he could for it, leaving him a broken and bruised mess for Bucky to take care of, filling him once more. “It was the last time I stepped foot in a church.”
Steve’s voice was a broken, jagged thing as it made its way through the broken glass feelings inside him, his breathing no better and all too reminiscent of those days he’d mentioned. “And then a miracle happened, my mom’s prayers answered, I was...I was fit and healthy for the first time in my entire life. And I was able to help a lot of people. And I thought, maybe...maybe I was wrong and I should try to go back, at least once. But then I saw...so, so much evil in the world in the process. And how could a good and just God allow that to happen to people who were faithful to Him? People that prayed for help and an end to their suffering and it was my mother all over again. And then I lost the other half of me. And then...then I fell.”
Steve felt Matt lean into him slightly, a brush of his shoulder against his own, a silent offer of comfort, and he took a deep shuddering breath, pressing his palms hard against his eyes as he fought back those old feelings once more.
“And then there was another miracle and I survived what should have killed me. And then I’m watching the sky rip apart and...and aliens and actual gods fall out of it and how ! How am I supposed to believe in a one true God when I’m looking at and talking to other gods?”
oOo
Matt gave Steve time, time to breathe, time to pull the broken pieces of himself back to some form of whole. Oh, he had very few doubts about who the Steve next to him actually was, the hints of his past merely verifying everything his senses had picked up. He really wished Foggy was there, he was much better with the people side of things usually and he felt like Steve could really use a hug...or a hundred. “I’m not a theologian, not by any means. I’m a lawyer actually, we tend to deal with verifiable facts.” He grinned at the startled laugh that slipped from Steve. “I can’t even begin to understand the things you’ve lived through, but maybe...maybe you just need to think about it from a different perspective. You’ve met gods, we’ve certainly had video of them played back often enough at this point that most of the world is at least familiar with them, but if those gods are real, the gods we all though were just products of simpler times and minds, then what says that the one Christian God can’t be real too? That is the key definition of faith, right? Believing in the ‘things unseen’?”
“I...I never really thought of it that way.”
Matt could hear the hope in Steve’s voice and smiled softly, finally looking towards the man. “And, Steve...Captain,” Matt felt the man’s whole body jerk in surprise, “you heard those people praying for help, saw the hell that they were in, and you wondered why their prayers went unanswered, but...you were there to rescue them. You saved them. And you can put the cause of that on any explanation you want, but...well, ‘the Lord works in mysterious ways’ after all.”
oOo
Steve stared in shock at the man next to him, his whole world view thrown completely off course as he thought back over all those moments in his life where he’d wondered why and raged at a seemingly absent God. It wasn’t a perfect fix, there were still so many tragedies and so much suffering that was still going on even in this new age he lived in, but ...maybe he could take a step back now and look at things a little differently from on. Maybe he could let himself find the healing and guidance that his mother had once found in the church.
As the bells started ringing once again, calling the neighborhood to the next mass, Matt slipped a card from his pocket, holding it out to him. “My card, in case you might want to get a cup of coffee or something and talk sometime. Or if you or one of your... friends ever find yourselves in need of legal help...again.”
Steve couldn’t help laughing at the cocky look on the man’s face, gladly taking the card and tucking it away in his wallet. “I just might hold you to that.”
Matt grinned and stood up, his cane coming out to guide him. “Good, now be a good soldier and help a blind man cross the road.”
“Oh, it’s like that is it?”
“Or should I get the credit for helping the old man across the road?”
Steve felt lighter than he had in what felt like absolute ages, his laugh ringing out in tune with the church bells above them, drawing a satisfied laugh from the man next to him. “I think I’m going to like you.”
oOo
Matt had sat in the back of the church next to Steve through the entire service, a warm glow of contentment filling him. He’d been having his own hard time of things recently, what with the evils his vigilante work exposed him to, not to mention the evils he had to deal with as a lawyer. It felt good being able to help someone, without needing a mask, without having to twist words to manipulate juries and judges into seeing the truth. He thought maybe, just maybe, he might have even started on his way to a new friendship.
Leaving Steve with a friendly handclasp, and promises to schedule a time to meet later in the week, Matt made his way to the exit with the other parishioners, stopping to speak to the Father on his way out.
“Well now, it seems I was right to mention our mysterious stranger to you. You’re looking better yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah. You were right.” Matt rolled his eyes as he smiled at his mentor.
“Is he...do you think he’s alright?”
As Matt let his senses range outward, he heard Steve’s voice, tinged slightly with embarrassment say, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been...over seventy years since my last confession," though he had to stop himself from laughing at the startled squeak from the priest in the other side of the confessional.
“I think he’ll get there. And now, well, now he knows he’s not alone.”