Chapter Text
This wasn't what you had originally planned your life. Not how it was supposed to turn out. But, you know what? Here you were, at the doorstep of the old Catholic church that you had always dreaded since your parents would force you to come; even if it meant dragging you in by your ear! Yeah, that's right. They drug you here sometimes by your ear. Anyway, looking up at the enormous Gothic cathedral, it was hard not to admire the architecture for what it was: beautiful. True, you were never a fan of coming for the services, but the building itself was the only reason that you semi-enjoyed coming. Well, that and the kind Priest that worked here.
Sure, you never went into confessions, but you had always heard from fellow church-goers just how forgiving he was and yadda-yadda-yadda. You really just saw him as a very tall, very kind, German priest who didn't condemn you to Hell just because you weren't coming to confess to him like so many others. You've even gotten a chance to speak with him on a few occasions that was outside the church (ie running into him at the grocery store or park), and every time the conversation the two of you had been relatively pleasant! He had never hassled you about church, or about confession, or the few times that you actually managed to successfully (though you wouldn't tell him that) skip out on Mass. He would always just focus on the weather, or how your day was, and telling you very nice, or silly, stories of different services that have happened while he was Priest. Of course, he never mentioned anyone by name, but you always got the gist. Someone did something accidentally silly and, when he noticed the more tight-laced church goers were getting angry at the individual, he would intervene with a witty comment and, to the angered ones, give a message of forgiveness and understanding. That was probably the main thing that drew you to the man: his passion for forgiveness and understanding and kindness. And it was also that passion that you were actually praying to God he would have on you in this current moment.
Without further adieu, you climbed up the Church steps and up to the giant, heavy, wooden doors. You didn't even bother with the brass knocker that was probably the size of your head; instead pushing the door as gently as you could without making too much noises of struggle. Why did they have to make those things out of solid oak...was it even oak? That aside, you peered into the Nave. Not many people were there, but some were. A few were near the front, their heads turned down in prayer, and a few in the middle and back just kind of... looking up at the cross at the front. You could understand their trance with it, seeming how beautifully crafted it was.
"Is there anything you need, child?" you stiffened in surprise before relaxing, recognizing the kind German accent that was behind you. Slowly, you turned and greeted Father Reinhardt.
"Actually, yes. There is something..." you took a deep breath and held your hands together in front of you to keep them from shaking. Never before in your life, that you could remember, had you ever been this nervous to ask something of someone. Well, neither has anything been as serious as this either. You took another breath and looked up at the tall man before you. Thank the Lord he had the patience of a saint..
"M-my... I mean.. Um..." you crossed your arms, your hands shaking horribly. Enough so that a mere grip on them couldn't stop it. Before you could get any other words through your lips, you felt a pair of hands grip your biceps lightly. Looking down, you recognized them as the hands on the man standing before you. Slowly, they slid down your arms and untangled them from their positioning on your body so that his hands to take a hold of yours. With your hands now buried within the grasp of Father Reinhardt's own, you could feel them start to shake a little less. Moment by moment, your body started to ease itself from its tension; your arms falling slack and only being held in their current position because of the Father. You looked up at him, tears brimming your eyes. His face held a gentle expression; a soft smile and knowing eyes. He was giving you time. You managed a thankful smile up at him just as a tear started to roll down your cheek. Father Reinhardt looked towards the few people who were in the Nave before gently pulling you toward him so that he could wrap an arm around your shoulders, guiding you to one of the Crying Rooms that you've passed many times before. You'd never thought that you would be the one crying inside of one before...
Once in the room, with the door closed and without the Father's arms around you to comfort you, even for that moment, the water works began and you couldn't stop the choked sob that bubbled up from your throat. Your arms went back to shaking horribly, and your legs decided to join them. Before you could fall to the ground, however, Father Reinhardt was able to usher you over to a couch and, gently, helped you to sit. Sob after sob left you in such a state that you were unable to voice any form of thought that came racing into your mind. From the shadow-guilt of skipping Mass several times, and not enjoying coming to services, to the more recent incident that had left you as you are now: being forcibly removed from your home and family. Being disowned. Your air came in gasps between wails of sorrow; though it was a comfort to you to have the Father right next to you, running circles on your back with his hand. The pressure of his hand giving you a physical anchor to keep yourself from loosing all control on your emotional state at the moment. And, when you started to dry-heave from all the sobs and wails, your tears started to lessen and you could find your voice again; even if only slightly louder than a whisper. You'd...rather not go through that again, if you could help it.
"Child, what seems to be the matter?" You looked up at Father Reinhardt's concerned face. He had seen many people weep profusely over different concerns in their lives, and had been able to escort them simply enough to a confessional to speak more about said concerns, but to see this much distress come from one so young (granted, he didn't know how old you were, but to him you looked quite young)? He wrapped his arm back around your shoulders and you let yourself slump against him, your energy drained from all of your tears shed. You knew this wasn't 'standard procedure' for this sort of incident... maybe... you weren't really sure what the procedure was... but, in any case, you didn't let your mind dwell on it too much as you began to speak to the Father.
"I've been disowned. My mom and dad kicked me out of the house today and I have nowhere to turn to." You paused, leaning back up and out of the Father's grasp, curling your hands together and bringing your legs up to sit criss-cross on the seat, "They weren't happy at how many times that I had managed to... skip Mass... and other services. And," another breath, "how 'unwilling' I apparently was to do anything they asked of me." You gave a hollow laugh as you put the word unwilling in air-quotes. You had always done as you were asked! Hardly ever complained since they never asked much of you... so, that one reason hurt you quite a lot. You looked up at Father Reinhardt, surprise etching itself onto your face and in your heart. His face was like stone as he listened. No nods of listening... no sympathetic glances at you... no hesitant pats as you spoke. As surprised, and curious, as you were, you continued on with your story.
"We had had an argument just a few hours ago. It had... been quite loud. A lot of yelling. Then when my mother attempted to slap me, I blocked and ended up slapping her in defense." You took a breath, feeling the tears starting to come back. Your voice cracked, "I hadn't meant to; I don't know why I had done it! But, after it was all said and done, my father slapped me and decided that enough was enough and dr-" you paused, choosing to correct your wording, "guided me to my room and told me that I had an hour to back. I wouldn't be living there anymore. I was..." You paused, your throat closing with emotion, "I was not his child." You could feel the tears starting to swell up again, a few leaving your eyes for their journey down your cheeks. You looked to the ceiling and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. It did help that Father Reinhardt put a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. Soon enough, the tears dried up and you were left emotionally and physically wreaked; your body too weak to stand, little to almost no upper body strength to keep you sitting up right, and your eyes drooping. You felt numb now, but less than you knew you would've been had the Father not been there, giving you comfort. Without realizing it, you leaned your body over and slumped against him, letting your eyes close. You felt him pause for a moment, causing your drained mind only semi-think that maybe this wasn't alright, until you felt him scoot you closer to himself.
After a few minutes like that, you were sound asleep. Father Reinhardt wasn't surprised in the least, considering what you had just confessed to him and just how wrong the situation sounded. The volume and physicality of how hard you were crying was also an obvious indicator to him just how drained you were. When you leaned against him, it shocked him for a moment; but only a moment was all he needed before he was pulling you closer, his mind already set on taking you in. Raising you as his own, though you were obviously grown enough to possibly take care of yourself. But he doubted that anyone would be able to take care of themselves after being kicked from their home so suddenly and forcefully...
"Father?" He looked to the door to see Angela, his underling, peeking her head into the room. He must not have heard her knocking. A soft smile slipped across his lips as he nodded to her before gently standing up, making sure not to just let you flop onto the couch. Once standing, he turned back to you and carefully scooped you into his arms, rearranged your body to tuck comfortably against his own, and turned back to the woman at the door, confusion written plainly across her face as she looked at you. He could see a few hints of worry as well, and he could understand. Only he knew her secret and it has been a closely guarded once since she first came to him. He took a few steps forward before clearing the air.
"We will be taking this child in. They've been hurt and abandoned and require love and family." Angela immediately smiled and stood straight, nodding her head in understanding.
"I will go back home to make up the guest room!" Reinhardt nodded as he watched Angela flit away, her wings carrying her across the now empty Nave and to the back door, which she soared out of. He chuckled lightly and continued his path outside and to his car. He has caught himself being quite envious of Angela's abilities, but he always hammers down his envy with his appreciation that God had sent such a helping hand to him in his, and the church's, time of need. Angela was a blessing, and he would always be grateful. And now, he had one more reason to thank God. For saving this child from their abuse and torment and into the arms of the Church, and himself. He was always curious as to how it would feel to be a true father...