Work Text:
I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear, falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses
And He walks with me
And He talks with me
And He tells me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known
It was a chilly summer night when it happened, the momentary cold seeping into the stone floor of the ministry.
You were a proud Sibling of Sin— you were accomplished, respected among your peers. You’d been a member of the clergy for quite a while now and knew how everything was run. In fact, some might argue that you’re one of the few people that are able to keep it running like a well-oiled machine. When another church-goer was confused or conflicted about something, if they couldn’t go to a cardinal or Papa, they would find you.
And with that came a lot to carry on your two shoulders.
Of course, there was the joy in knowing that so many people trusted you and saw the effort you put into your worship and practice. Your energy was not pushed aside or wasted, and your reputation was of high remark. The same could not be said for many others in the church, so you had to be thankful for that. You were happy to be of service to not just Lucifer, but your fellow Siblings as well.
But with that came strain and baggage. Constantly helping Siblings through their inner turmoils or challenges. Assisting others with their mental roadblocks or doubts. Leaving your small office after hours of menial paperwork to immediately be stopped by someone in need— or, alternatively, going on a fetch-quest for a leader in the church when you are delayed by a Sibling begging for help. Not to mention the amount of extra chores people asked you to do solely because they knew you’d get them done.
It felt good to be of service, to be needed. It did not feel good to constantly be used to fix others' problems when you had no one to go to yourself.
It began to pile up on you; you began to stay up later, holed up in your office, trying to bury yourself in work to avoid interacting with others. Sometimes, you even went far enough to pretend to be gone or asleep when people knocked past your normal open hours. It didn’t stop the issue completely, but at least prolonged the inevitable impromptu therapy session in the hallway while you trek back to your rooms. It didn’t change much. Now, instead of just worrying about the issues of others, you had even higher piles of papers to fill out every day. The stress was really starting to wear you out, and you had absolutely no outlet for it.
Frankly, it made you feel… well, rather lonely. People would come to you just to talk about themselves, never asking about you. You had acquaintances, not friends. Outside of asking for your help, nobody really interacted with you. It was isolating to say the least.
Finally, one day, you snapped at a Sister of Sin who was having relationship issues, breaking your composure with a ‘would you just shut up?’ before you realized what you did and ran off to your bedroom. If anyone else had come to find you that day— whether to ask for help or to ask what your problem was, —they had no idea where you were. Instead of cramming yourself into your small office, you spent the rest of the day curled up under the covers of your bed, berating yourself for your mistake.
How could I be so cruel, you questioned, scratching idly at your arm. I mean, what she was worried about was silly and ultimately meaningless, but… I shouldn’t have reacted in such a way. I’m supposed to be helpful, not make these Sibling’s issues worse. You sighed, sinking into your mattress even more. Am… Am I a terrible person for not wanting to help everyone all the time? Do I even deserve to talk to someone about my issues after being so rude to that Sister? You didn’t have an answer.
You must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because before you knew it, the bell above the chapel rang out and echoed across the whole ministry, signifying midnight. You peered out the window quietly, realizing just how much time had passed— now how were you going to get back to sleep? Simply another concern on your plate.
Smoothly, you slid on a pair of slippers and creep out of your room, still in your habit from that morning. If you can’t fall back asleep, you might as well take a walk.
You didn’t travel through the halls of the ministry very often at night, let alone early in the morning hours even before dawn. There was certainly an energy to the corridors, an anticipation of something you couldn’t name. Perhaps that was simply the nature of a building such as this one, paired with how dark it was even during broad daylight. At least during these quiet witching hours, you were able to appreciate the beauty of the ministry without any Siblings interrupting your thoughts. Candle lights flickered as you traced your hand along the wall while you walked, not having any particular destination in mind. Your steps were quiet, the sound of your breaths being the loudest sound in the hall, and even that was muted. It was calm, in a way.
At some point, you realize you had made your way to the cloister gardens. You didn’t spend much time here, given you didn’t have too much free time at all. Slowly, your pace falls short, and you stand staring into the foliage, taking it all in.
Despite how late it was, a full moon shone somewhere above the ministry, providing ample light to see all the nature here. Still, there was quite enough lighting inside the gardens as well, something you had never even noticed. Small lanterns dotted the walking paths, and there were a few other decorations glowing in the darkness that you couldn’t quite make out. You could hear the quiet bubbling of a fountain in the middle, and the rustling of leaves and branches as a cool breeze passed by, playing with the sleeves of your habit. Most, if not all of the flowers were closed up into buds due to the time of day, but the bushes and plants they came from were still gorgeous in their own right.
Silently, you leave the open hallway and enter the green gardens, feeling the grass tickle your heels where the slippers fail to cover them. You take a deep breath in and realize it must have rained while you slept. The petrichor of the earth surrounds you almost like a warm hug.
Looking around, you realize that you can’t remember the last time you really took in your surroundings while in the cloister. Most of the time, you passed by the gardens hurriedly trying to make it to a chore or meeting, never taking a moment to… Well, stop and smell the roses.
You make your way over to a bush with many closed flowers, most a deep red. You trace a finger down one of them, feeling the dewy petal under your fingertip. Leaning in, you let the lingering flowery scent calm your nerves just a bit. You could get used to the peace this place brings.
Well, that is until you hear a whispered “benvenuto” just a few meters away.
Quickly, you turn around, your entire body going rigged with the fear of being caught outside so late. A frantic apology begins to fall from your lips when you squint and realize who had come up behind you— Primo, still in his signature alb and chasuble. He chuckles when he sees your reaction.
“I… Hello, Papa,” you choke out, eyes flitting around the garden. Where did he even come from? “Uhm, how are you doing tonight?” Yet again, he chuckles, laugh lines appearing on his face. He isn’t wearing his face paint, though his cheeks look stained with black makeup in the same skull shape he wears.
“I am well, il mio bambino. And yourself?” His posture is relaxed, but he looks at you with knowing eyes.
“Fine, Papa.”
“Ah, basta,” he mutters, waving a hand in front of him. “No need to call me Papa here and now. I haven’t really been Papa in many, many years. I must insist that you call me Primo.” He is quiet for a moment, before he carefully walks up to you and places a hand on your bicep. “Come,” he implores, setting a leisurely place down one of the stone pathways.
Unable to stop yourself, you obey, falling in step next to Primo. What else could you do, say no? Primo hums at your side, his head turning towards yours.
“What brings you to my garden, peccatore?” You blush, moving your gaze toward the mossy rocks beneath your feet. Your earlier thoughts ring in your mind— Do I even deserve to talk to someone about my issues after being so rude to that Sister? Primo interrupts before you can answer your inner monologue. “ Tipicamente, I only receive visitors at such a late hour when something is amiss.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” A white lie never hurt anybody. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Primo saw straight through it.
“Hmm.”
After passing under a vine-covered arbor, the two of you had arrived at the center of the cloister. The rocky ground gave way to grass yet again. In front of you stood a tall fountain, water cascading down lazily with a soothing noise. If you peered over the lip, you could see a few koi fish swim around in the pond the water ended up in. Dotted around the fountain were wooden benches, appearing well-worn and aged, as if they held the stories of those who spent time sitting on them. You could make out a few perennials planted here and there, but not the exact flower.
Carefully, Primo led you closer to the fountain, close enough to where you could easily bend over the edge and watch the fish drift about. In the waves and ripples of the falling water, you could see your own face and how different you looked. It was obvious that you were not doing well; your habit was wrinkled, your hair tousled up, bags beginning to grow under your eyes. You winced. Primo laid a comforting hand on your back.
“This is one of my favorite places in the whole ministry. I have spent many hours here at this very fountain, meditating on the calming view of the fish that I placed in their or relaxing as the cool water ran between my fingers.” He sat on the flat stone edge of the fountain with his body turned toward yours, patting the spot next to him for you to join him. He reached out his hand and allowed the water to cascade and flow over his palm.
“I enjoy the forgiving nature of water,” he continued, looking at you. “No matter what you place it in, it will return to its shape. When frozen, it will still melt. When mist or fog, it will still rain back down. I do not know if it remembers what occurred to it, but I do know that it continues on moving as if nothing had ever happened.”
Under the moonlit sky, Primo’s white eyes seemed to almost glow and pierce your soul. You wondered if he could read your thoughts or emotions, or was simply good at knowing when something was wrong. You could tell he was not simply talking about water, nevertheless. He gently rose and gestured to a wooden bench a few feet away.
“Let us sit somewhere more comfortable; my back is not what it used to be, fratello.” You silently joined him on the seat, spine rigid and tense, though you had to admit that Primo was right— watching the water fountain flow down into the palm was gradually calming your nerves. You heard Primo sigh.
“I entered the gardens tonight because I couldn’t sleep, either,” he revealed before glancing down at his typical daily garbs. “Well, I should say I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Every so often, a tingling feeling will crawl up my neck and a restlessness will come upon me at night. In times like this, I know there will be a fratello or cardinale who will need my help,” he smiles, “so I come to my garden. It seems to call those who are in need of peace.” Then it was quiet, with only the rustling leaves and running water to accompany them.
“Why are you here, il mio bambino? Sinceramente?” You fidgetted for a moment, playing with your hands before you began to pull at the hem of your habit. You had to muster up your courage before you began speaking.
“I— uhm, well…” Slowly, you revealed your current situation; how you had been up to your ears in extra work, projects, and papers along with the stress of helping other Siblings with their issues and worries. You talked about the weight you felt had been put upon you, the toll it was taking on your mental health. Shame bubbled up from deep in your stomach when you discussed the Sister of Sin you yelled at when you couldn’t take it anymore, remembering the look of shock and hurt on her face. When you finished, you shook your head fitfully. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, I don’t…” Primo placed his hand on your knee, gazing at you with a soothing look on his face.
“You don’t what, fratello?” Your head fell into your open palms, tears coming to your eyes. Your expression crumbled.
“I don’t deserve it. Your kindness, I mean.”
He speaks and the sound of His voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing
You felt your body froze, preparing itself for the worse. Before you could stand and run away from Primo’s reaction, you heard him speak.
“I’m not sure I believe that.”
In shock, you lowered your hands and stared at him, beginning to question him through sputtering words. “Huh?”
“You deserve kindness, il mio bambino. Whyever would you think otherwise?”
“Because,” you started, voice rising in the quiet night, “I—I’m a terrible person! I should’ve been able to handle everything better. I should’ve been more productive and worked harder to finish everything on time. I shouldn’t have hid from everyone who just wanted my help. And I definitely shouldn’t have yelled at that poor Sister!”
“You do not focus on what you should,” he said as he leaned back into the bench. “There is no reason as to why you do not deserve kindness. You are a hard worker, your load is already significantly larger than any other Sibling’s. Of course taking on more projects would cause stress and tension. Even if you did not complete everything, I’m certain your work is of the highest caliber.
“On the topic of the other Siblings… Fratello, you are not required to assist their every need. They are not entitled to your words or advice, especially if it is causing you to experience such turmoil. Helping others should not cause harm to yourself— you should not have to give away your being just for the comfort of others. Capisci?”
You sat there quietly for a moment, then another one. You watched as the fountain continued to spout water unendingly. Primo sighed next to you.
“Lucifer wants us all to be happy, il mio bambino . He wants us to live fulfilling, joyful lives where we are authentically and unforgivingly ourselves. Do you think He would be happy with what you are putting yourself through?” You opened your mouth to answer, but all you could manage were a few wordless stutters. No, you don’t suppose He’d be happy. “Exactly, fratello. He would surely appreciate the sacrifices you are making, but not the toll it is costing.”
“Then that is just another reason why I don’t deserve kindness.” Primo looked at you with wide eyes.
“ Che cosa?”
“I am an embarrassment, a failure.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “I can’t even make the Morningstar proud. He must be so disappointed in me.”
Primo shifted closer to you, laying a hand on your back and leaning in.
“You know as well as I do that He loves all of His children,” he whispered, “and you are one of them, no? His love is agape, unconditional. It is like water. In your life, you will make mistakes. You will fail, fratello , and it will hurt. Lucifer will witness every one of these moments. And yet, in His unending glory, he will forgive you and love you despite your shortcomings.
“He only wants the best for you; I do as well. He wants to see you strong. He wants to see you confident. Even if it is difficult.” Primo reached out to cup your cheek carefully, and you leaned into the touch. “There is nothing you could do that would stop Him nor I from loving you. I simply wish that you could see how worthy you are of that love.”
His words seemed to wash over you, calming your nerves and relaxing your muscles. Ever so slowly, you finally leaned back on the bench, laying your weight on Primo’s side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder in response. You peered up at the sky, framed by the cloister walls, and watched the stars gleam. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe next to Primo.
His presence felt like water. Forgiving. His words resonated within you, almost as if they were building a nest to live in, claiming the hollow, lonely spot that had developed in your chest as their home. It brought a sense of light, of knowingness. The feeling of being understood.
A cool breeze passed through the garden, and Primo brought you closer to his chest, his grip tightening just a bit. His vestments, as unbearably hot as they could be at times, were perfect for a night like tonight. With the sound of the fountain bubbling and lulling in the background, you could feel your eyelids slowly drooping, your head bobbing as you fitfully tried to escape sleep. Primo brought a hand through your hair, shushing you.
“Sleep, young one,” he instructed quietly. “I will be with you when you awaken.”
I stayed in the garden with Him
Though the night around me is falling
But He bids me go, through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling
When you opened your eyes, you were met with a golden and pink sky, clouds leisurely making their way past. The morning had come so soon.
You shifted a bit, trying to wake yourself a bit more. Primo noticed and hummed. He rubbed his hand soothingly on your back as you sat up. The garden around you was still empty; it was early enough for others to be waking up, but still too early for them to get started with their day. There was still dew on the leaves and plants around you, though it was evaporating in the morning sun. A few birds pecked around on the grass for worms and called out to their friends and children.
There was an anticipation in the air. Your hands fiddled in your lap nervously, and you stared at them, unable to look Primo in the eye. It was comfortable here, warm and inviting. After being able to air out your concerns, your body and mind felt settled. If only you could feel this way permanently.
“Can… Can I…” You were unable to finish your question, too anxious to voice it. Primo’s rejection was the last thing you wanted. Still, he answered the unspoken inquiry.
“You may come here anytime you need, il mio bambino.”
Your body slumped as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The garden suddenly looked brighter to you, as if the knowledge that this isn’t the last time you’d walk among these flowers made everything bloom with color. There was a sense of sereneness for a minute, though you couldn’t help but feel your throat tighten as you watched the sun rise in the sky.
“Primo—“ You gasp, tears coming to your eyes. “I don’t want to come back. I don’t want to leave . I want to stay here forever.” He smiles at you with a sad look in his eyes, taking your hands.
“Forever is a long time, mio caro.”
“But, if I go back in there, I’ll have to… face everything. Everyone. I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Even if you leave this garden, that does not mean the experience you had here will leave you.” He thought for a moment, before gesturing to you. “Stand for me.” You looked at him confusedly.
“What?”
“Stand for me, and walk over to the fountain.” Hesitantly, you did as he said, staring back at him. “Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?”
“Close your eyes and feel. Do you feel that?”
With your eyes closed, you took a deep breath, shoulders falling. You felt the stone beneath your slippers. The way your clothing hung around your shoulders. The tickle of grass at your ankles. The wind. The— Oh. Oh.
In your chest, there it was. The empty, lonely hole that laid between your lungs heavily was… illuminated, in a sense. The darkness you had carried for weeks seemed to disappear, and a warmth flooded your body from the middle of the pit. It felt like love. It felt like forgiveness.
It felt refreshing, like water.
When you opened your eyes, you realized you were now openly crying as Primo stood in front of you with a caring expression. You fell into his open arms with a sob.
“There you go,” he chided, going to run his fingers through your hair again calmingly. “You’ve found it.”
It was as if the weight you’d been carrying had suddenly been lifted from your shoulders and buried deep underground. The doubt that was holding you back was burned away by the light in your chest.
“You may leave this place today,” Primo spoke, “and you may find that life is still difficult, that people are still insufferable, that there is still a feeling of unworthiness lying around. But there is nothing, absolutely nothing that could take away what you know you have now. Do you know what it is, fratello?” You shook your head.
“No, I don’t.”
“It is love. Unconditional, undying love. From Him and myself. Even if you never enter this garden again, you will carry that love with you forever and know that it will never leave you.”
He carefully pulled back from the hug you had thrown yourself into, placing his hands on your shoulders. You looked at him with teary eyes and a watery smile.
“You will do wonderful things today and forever. I am sure of it.”
“Thank you, Primo.”
Without another word, he tenderly led you back down the path you had walked just hours before. The flower buds around the garden were finally opening up, the petals blanketing the area with bright colors and a light scent that seemed to follow you around. The birds looked at the two of you curiously before flying back to their nests with breakfast in their beaks. It was peaceful.
When you reached the entrance, you turned back to Primo. You wanted to say something again in thanks, but couldn’t come up with the right words to do so— anything you thought of seemed to pale in comparison to what he had done. Even without you speaking, he understood, smiled, and nodded to you. Taking a few steps to his right, he peered at the bush of red flowers you had admired earlier, which you now recognized as a rose bush. Minding any thorns, he plucked one that had fully opened, and walked back in front of you.
He laid a light kiss on your forehead. Then, he placed the rose in your hands. Finally, he mumbled a quick blessing under his breath before smiling once more and wandering back into the garden.
And He walks with me
And He talks with me
And He tells me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known
None other has ever known