Chapter Text
Benoit Blanc is not an easily surprised man. At best he is infrequently, mildly caught off guard. He is always ten steps ahead of everyone, putting pieces together before people even realize there’s a puzzle to solve. Benoit Blanc has never encountered a bombshell he didn’t half predict.
So when Philip ambushes him at breakfast, Blanc promptly spits his tea out over the new tablecloth.
Philip ‘tsks’ and hands him a napkin. “It’s just mass, love. Nothing to get so worked up about.”
He doesn’t dignify that with a response until he’s mostly cleaned up. “Now dear,” he says carefully, “if you want to go you are more than welcome to do so. I, however, will be at home with Jelly watching our baking show.” He narrows his eyes. “Why do you want to go?”
“Curiosity mostly,” Philip says mildly. “I’ve heard so much about your priest in Chimney Rock. Why not pop in for a visit?”
Blanc sets his mouth in a firm, thin line and begins the spiel Philip hears every Easter. “It is an institution built on racism, misogyny, homophobia—“
“—traits you’ve been very clear Father Jud does not possess—“
“—you are being intentionally difficult—“
Philip huffs. “Love, I’m not asking you to convert. I just simply am feeling a little nostalgic for my choir boy days.”
“Then you go.”
“You two could catch up,” Philip points out, completely sidestepping his argument. “What’s he been up to since the murder?” For the second time, Blanc is left dumb. His husband waits a moment before quirking an eyebrow. “You haven’t kept in contact,” he more surmises than asks.
Benoit feels caught. “I’m sure the boy is very busy,” he tries.
“I sincerely doubt he wouldn’t want to hear from the man who saved him from life in prison.”
He’s losing ground quickly. “I’ve had a lot on my plate.”
“You’ve been sulking in the bathtub for the last month because you’re between cases, so pardon me if I doubt that.” He pauses. “He’s reached out, hasn’t he?”
Blanc makes a pained sound and then admits, “Yes.”
“And you haven’t gotten back to him.”
“I’m getting to it.”
“It’s better to catch up in person, either way,” Philip says while he clears the table. “I have some time off this week; why don’t we make a trip of it? You said it was green up there and I’m a little tired of the city.”
“Now hold on–”
Philip kisses him on the cheek and the detective sputters, ears an offended and flustered red. “Thank you, dear,” Philip hums. “I’ll get a cat sitter for Jelly. Helen practically begged to watch her last time.”
Blanc grumbles something and starts pointedly scouring the newspaper.
Chimney Rock, for all of his excessive complaining, is not that far or unpleasant of a drive. The concrete jungle evolves into a dense growth of greenery and open skies. It’s a summery day so they keep the windows down. Benoit hasn’t made this drive in over a year, the last time being to resolve Cy Draven’s dispute with the church.
Truthfully, he has meant to call Jud. He’s a good man, and Benoit is thrilled to hear he took over Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude. Jud will be a positive change, and hopefully will extend some of that grace he believes in so much. The man in the sky stuff is hooey, but still, he can respect the priest’s dedication to his faith.
He thought he could, at least.
Damascus is the closest thing he’ll ever have to any sort of religious revelation, and he’s tried to at least tolerate the benediction or whatever nonsense the priesthood abides by. Religion isn’t something he believes in, nor does he ever intend to, but Jud gave him a reason to trust in the goodness he believes in. They had parted on good terms with mutual respect for each others’ paths and experiences. For his part, Jud never tried to convert him or pray for him to repent, despite his repeated and, admittedly, harsh characterizations of every aspect of the church. In truth, Jud supported the critique and never downplayed his own flaws. It was a breath of fresh air; Benoit had been drawn in by the allure of the case outweighing his vitriol for Catholicism as a whole, and gained an unexpected friend in the priest.
A friend he hasn’t responded to in several months.
So yes, Blanc really did intend to reach out, and yet…well, maybe this trip will be good. Philip is seldom wrong about these things.
“I can hear you thinking,” Philip says, ever the mind reader. He lays his book in his lap and turns down ‘Shimbleshanks the Railway Cat’. “What’s this about? Scared you’ll burn up when you walk in?”
Benoit taps his finger against the steering wheel with thinly veiled irritation. “Darlin’, we are a gay couple walking into a church on Easter—of course I’m worried.”
He hums. “But that’s not what you’re thinking about.”
Dammit.
“I’ll fill you in later,” he says instead. Then adds, “over dinner?” to sweeten the pot.
His husband examines him for a moment before shrugging and turning the radio back up. “If you say so, love.” He returns to his reading.
“You missed your calling as a detective.”
Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude (now Our Lady of Perpetual Grace) is virtually unrecognizable. The bones of the church haven’t changed despite Jud’s $80 million ability to do so. Instead, there’s a new life in the place. The plants are well tended to and the brush has been trimmed back to let more light through the stained glass windows. The sign out front reads ‘All Welcome’ and it seems folks believe it. There are swarms of people in front of the doors, all dressed in pastel Easter colors. He, of course, is dressed to the nines in a salmon suit with a light blue button up, cream tie, and polished, but sensible, brown oxfords.
“For someone who didn’t want to come, you certainly took your time getting ready,” Philip comments as they’re getting out of the car and Benoit very maturely ignores that.
He straightens his suit jacket and stares up at the spires that reach towards the sun. He takes a deep breath and Philip suddenly feels a pang of sympathy. “Listen, Benoit, if you really don’t want to do this, we don’t need to,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean to push. Actually, I saw a lovely little breakfast nook on the way up–”
“No, no,” Benoit says briskly, “I’m fine. Just a bit more lively of an atmosphere than I’ve seen around here.” He reaches into his pocket for a cigar and then stops because smoking on church grounds sounds like it’d be a big no-no.
Then he remembers he doesn’t give a damn and lights up either way. If it bothers Philip, he doesn’t say. “Let’s get on with it,” Benoit says.
Inside the church, spring has sprung. The window light bleeding in from outside leaves colored shadows on the pews and congregation. Deep purple and white banners with gold trim hang between each window, bearing a simple cross. The ends of the pews are adorned with candles on long poles that are absolutely covered in flowers. Above the door of the church is a paper sign decorated with many children’s painted handprints that says ‘Do everything in love, Corinthians 16:14’.
However, what truly catches his eye is the wooden crucified Jesus hanging where the old cross used to be. Every once in a while, he can see the glint of the apple in its open, bleeding chest.
“You’re smiling.”
Benoit looks away and coughs. “I am not.”
“No, no, of course not, darling,” Philip hums. “Now, are we going to sit or do you want to stand so you can make a run for it?”
“Haha.”
The bastion pulpit is gone, and the organ has been moved into his place. A young woman sits at the bench, ready to begin once the noise has quieted down. There is a man in priestly vestments seated in the place of the assistant pastor with a patient, but open expression.
Benoit drinks in all of these details with a sense of pride before he realizes he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Father Jud Duplenticy.
He whispers as much to Philip, who simply replies, “Benoit, mass hasn’t started yet. He’s likely busy with preparations.” Placated, though feeling somewhat childish, Benoit resumes his people watching until the service begins.
At nine on the dot, the man rises and the congregation quickly settles. He crosses to the front of the stage, Bible in hand. He doesn’t stand on a towering pulpit, merely at eye level with the flock. “Open arms,” Benoit mutters and receives a ‘shh’ and elbow from his husband for it.
“Thank you for coming this Easter Sunday as we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,” the man announces. “On this day, three days after being betrayed, delivered into the hands of his enemies, and crucified, he rose again.”
“Amen,” everyone says, sans Benoit who wasn’t aware this was a ‘call and response’ situation.
Philip’s eyes crinkle in amusement, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. Benoit glares at him and waits for Father Jud to hurry up and come out so he can justify at least some of this ridiculous excursion.
“Unfortunately,” the priest continues, more sober than before, “Father Jud is unable to join us today. Last night, he had to return to Albany on urgent business and does not know when he will return. Please keep him in your prayers. I will be giving the homily in his place today.”
For the third instance in far too short of a time for Benoit’s liking, he is surprised. It’s his husband’s turn to look at him, and confusion is written all over his expression. ‘Did you know about this?’ His face says, and, no, Blanc really didn’t.
Jud had never mentioned any family, though, he supposes, there were more pressing matters than delving into his personal life at the time. He’s overcome with a new wave of guilt for not keeping better contact. He’s kept up with Helen and Marta, but Jud…
Well, he hopes he’s alright.
Unconsciously, he’s begun to tap his foot. Philip gives his knee a reassuring squeeze and then tunes back into the homily.
The mass is fine; it’d probably be wonderful if he had any religious inclinations. Philip seems to enjoy it, at least. In the year since Jud took over this church, several of his outreach programs have launched. The priest reminds the congregation of the food bank drive, the Monday night potluck, Tuesday night Bible studies, and the upcoming youth group field trip.
“Well, your priest seems like a stand up man,” Philip says afterwards.
People are milling about and chatting with each other, exchanging pleasantries like, “it’s great to see you” and “we should catch up sometime”. Someone taps him on the shoulder and he comes face to face with Father Al (he’d introduced himself at the beginning of his sermon, though he’d insisted on ‘Al’ over ‘Alvaro’), who smiles at him warmly. “I’m Al. Welcome to Our Lady of Perpetual Grace,” he says, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. Is this your first time with us?”
“I was, uh–” Blanc waves his hand around and tries to steer the conversation as best he can. “–here sometime around last year. When Father Jud took over. He was new then.”
Father Al hums. “That was before my time. I’m in my third month here. Did you enjoy the service?”
“You know, the rafters are lovely. Now, about–”
“They are, aren’t they? Did something bring you to us, then? It doesn’t sound like the Easter service is a favourite of yours.”
“I’m more inclined to rational beliefs than fairytales,” he says distractedly. “Listen, Father Jud–you said he had some family trouble?”
Not a lick offended, the priest replies easily. “Yes, he got a call last night and left on the first train. Were you looking for him?”
“Just to catch up. Listen–did he say why? Doesn’t seem much like the Father to leave his church.”
“I don’t want to violate Jud’s privacy,” Father Al says with a tad less friendliness. “But I’ll be sure to let you know you were asking for him. What’s your name again?”
“I’m–”
“Benoit, love, are you ready to go?” Philip places a hand on his lower back and Blanc’s posture stiffens. “Father Al, that was lovely.”
He watches the priest’s face closely for any sign of disgust, yet finds none. “Thank you. Are you his husband?”
“I am,” Philip says, “I hope there isn’t a rule against that here.”
The very notion seems to offend him. “No, of course not. I was just going to ask if you both knew Father Jud.”
“I can’t say I do. Benoit is the one who solved the case, not me.”
“Benoit,” Father Al repeats as the pieces come together. “Benoit Blanc?”
“Guilty, figuratively speaking,” Benoit says. “I really don’t mean to push the matter, but Father Jud?”
Father Al sighs and glances around. Seeing no one too close to them, he says: “I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but he really did leave in the middle of the night. I only saw him for a few minutes in the rectory before he left on his bike.”
“And he didn’t say why,” Blanc presses.
“Nothing beyond it being important.”
Blanc clicks his tongue and tries to imagine what sort of pressing matters could draw Jud back to Albany. The little he mentioned, he never seemed fond of the place.
Then again, Benoit never really asked.
Father Al seems sympathetic to this. “I’m sorry you missed him,” he says sincerely. “I’m sure he’ll be coming back in a few weeks.” He’s about to say something else before another parishioner pulls him away, excitedly chattering about his daughter’s upcoming christening.
It doesn't sit right with him, but Benoit doesn't truly have a bad feeling until later in the night. He's finally responded to Jud's last five texts and gets no response. With a bit of reluctance, he calls him, and has similar results.
"Darling, you're doing that thing again," Philip complains as they lie in bed. "You're going to get fixated."
"I am not fixatin'."
There's a lull in the conversation while Blanc tries to reach out again to get nothing back. Philip watches this with some patience before breaking the silence. “You know what,” Philip says brightly, “I’ve always wanted to see Albany.”
“I’m not intruding on the boy’s privacy.”
“I can tell you think something’s wrong, Benoit.”
“Well obviously something’s wrong.”
“Not normal wrong, your type of wrong.”
He squints at his husband before relenting. “Just because you want to go,” he allows. “But I am not solving any mysteries.”
“Of course not, love.”