Bargaining
Two Months after the snap
Two Months and A Week After Harley finds Out
Bargaining
Father Thomas had noticed that Matthew Murdock had spent every day since the decimation at the church. He had spent every single day at the church alone, and in mourning. Seemingly his partner in crime- well fighting or defending it- Franklin Nelson had been one of the many who had died. Father Thomas genuinely didn’t know how hard that must be for the blind man.
Every Morning, at the break of dawn, Matt would make his ways into the pews of the church. He would eat the food that the Fathers passed out to those who were seeking refuge within the walls of God, accepting lunch and dinner gratefully. His daily routine consisted of sitting in silence unless someone- usually one of the younger kids who had been displaced by the decimation- came to him to chat. He would always smile and talk to them with all the charm that Father Thomas knew Matthew had held when he was participating in everyday life. Then every night, he would slip away, into the quiet darkness. Father Thomas had learnt that it was best not to question what Matthew Murdock did in the night.
What did peak at his curiosity, though, was when Matt came in on Saturday morning, guided by a boy on the shorter side.
The boy was small, skinny. His eyes had dark bags under them, and looked as though death was a doorway away. Father Thomas couldn’t help the grimace. He’d seen far to many people with that same exact look in the past few months. To many sad eyes and broken hearts. The boys messy long blond hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, but that didn’t stop a few strands from escaping onto his face. His eyes were scanning the church, as if there was something that he was looking for.
Father Thomas had a gut feeling that whatever it was, he wouldn’t find it here.
Matt didn’t seem to mind the silence from his companion, talking with the charm dialed up to an eleven. The boy just kept helping him walk forward, until Matt motioned around them, “Look for an empty pew, kid.”
The boy just nodded, guiding the both of them to the entrance of a pew. The two sat down and Matt talked softly, just loud enough for Father Thomas to hear from the pew, “This is where I’ve been every day when I’m not helping you guys get things in order.”
“A church?” The boy’s voice was cracking from what Father Thomas could tell was disuse, “I didn’t take you for the type, to be honest.”
“I’ve gotten that a lot,” Matt laughed good naturedly, “Mainly from people who don’t know me and your dad, but who is he to judge?”
The boy’s mouth cracked up but he didn’t fully smile, “Dad can’t judge anyone.”
“Mhm,” Matt hummed at him, “Especially when he himself kneels by the cross every night.”
“He’s very hypocritical like that.”
“It's not his fault you know.”
“I recognize that now,” The boys voice was soft and his eyes scanned the room again, and fell upon a young couple in the pews holding hands, “I know it wasn’t his fault.”
“Yet..?”
“Yet nothing,” The boy looked back at his companion, “I know it wasn’t anyone’s fault but Thanos’s. I promise.”
Matt’s face turned in the direction of his, “Grief is a hard motivator.”
“Maybe so.”
The two of them sat in silence, and the boy’s eyes found the stained glass window. Father Thomas didn’t need to wonder which window he was staring at.
In the brightly colored window, a scene of Jesus rising from the dead stared back at the church.
“Do you think God can bring him back?”
Matt looked startled at the question, but his face relaxed and he turned into the boys general direction, “I don’t know.”
The boy’s eyes never left the window.
Two Months after the snap
Two Months and Two Weeks After Harley finds Out
Bargaining
At dawn, the church was often painted with colored light, pouring in from the stained glass windows. It was one of Father Thomas’s favorite times of day. It was also one of the only times that he would actively man the confessional. These days, those who came to church were those in need. Those who couldn’t take care of themselves after the death of half the world. Those who needed help. It was nice to have something that reminded him of the time before.
The time when the world was okay.
He slid into the booth, quietly, to find that someone was already waiting for him, “Forgive me father I have sinned,” the boy laughed a bit, “My last confession was never. I’ve never done this before.”
“I genuinely don’t know what to say,” The boy on the other side of the screen’s voice was sad and soft, “Because I think I’ve sinned in the worse way. I think I sinned by being angry.”
Father Thomas nodded at his words, “Wrath is often a hard thing to overcome.”
“I’m so angry,” The boy continued, “At everything. At Thanos- er, the person who caused this. For a long time I was angry at my dad. And I’m still so angry at him. At Peter, because he left and then died. Is it fucked up to be angry with someone who’s gone?”
“No,” Father Thomas assured him, “Anger is a stage of grief.”
“Then is it bad I see him everywhere I go?”
The boy continued before Father Thomas could say anything, “Is it bad that sometimes, when I’m about to fall asleep I see his face on the pillow next to mine, just like it had been months ago? That I can’t close my eyes because he’s burned into the back of my eyelids? Is it bad that I can’t bring myself to sleep, because one time I stayed awake so long that I dreamt with my eyes open that he was still here? To miss him so much and still be angry?”
“And I recognize,” he continued, again not letting Father Thomas get a word in, “That he would want me to take care of myself. I know that he would want that. I know he would want me to be okay. But how can I even attempt to take care of myself when he’s gone? When my Peter is dead?”
He took a shaky breath, “When Peter- my Peter, my amazing Peter, who had always held me when I was sad, who never questioned my boundaries, who always laughed at my jokes, and, and, and just-” He took a deep breath, his voice shaking, “And just wiped away the motor oil on my face. Who used to hold me on top of the roof of the tower and laugh when I started complaining about the cold. My Peter, who made me watch Emperor’s New Groove six times after I harassed him with llamas. My amazing Peter.”
“My peter,” his voice cracked, and Father Thomas could feel the broken heart radiating off the boy, “My Peter who’s gone. Ain’t that a bite? He’s gone.”
He let out a sob, something small but loud and powerful all the same, “I don’t even know what I’m doing here in a church.”
“I’m not a believer,” He whimpered, sniffling harshly, “I’m not a believer and neither was Peter. Hell the only person I’ve ever known to truly be a believe was my mom and shes dead.”
Father Thomas took a breath. This was always the worst part after tragedies. Those who weren’t of faith breaking down and questioning the Lord's work even more. It always hurt him a little bit on the inside.
He let out a watery laugh, once again stopping Father Thomas from saying anything, “Why is it that the good people die? Why is it that my mom- one of the best women in the world- had to die when I was barely fifteen, from cancer? Why is it that Peter- god, Peter, a hero, a real fucking hero- had to die? I just don’t understand.”
“I don’t know why I’m here,” Father Thomas could tell he was shaking, “I don’t know why I came back to a fucking church. I don’t know.”
He took a deep deep breath, his breathing still shaking, “I just want him back.”
“I just want him back,” His voice was shaking and shaking and shaking, and Father Thomas felt so bad for him, “I just want him back.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
The boy bolted from the booth, his breath uneven and body shaking.
Three Months after the snap
Two Month and Three Weeks After Harley finds Out
Bargaining
“Dear Heavenly Father,” The boy in front of the altar was kneeling, unaware of Father Thomas standing at the doors of the steeple, “I don’t know how to start these things.”
Father Thomas almost wanted to laugh at that, and he would have, if it hadn’t been for the destroyed voice that the boy had. He stayed silent and the boy continued, “I was never very religious. Mom… she went to church every sunday, put a blessing over every meal, and was genuinely a good christian. A true believer.”
“However,” He let out a breathy chuckle, “I was never a really true believer. I only went to church when mom forced me to, and even now I feel insane. I don’t really get this religion stuff.”
He took a deep breath, “My mom used to say it was a comfort. Knowing that someone was out there, looking out for us. Taking care of us. I think she just wanted to know that someone still cared.”
“And to be honest,” He shook a thought out of his head, “I just don’t believe. But mom did. And me and Peter, we never talked about it, but I know he believed. In you. In God. And I just, God I have to wonder if he’s up there with you? If he’s in heaven. If anyone deserves it, its him.”
The boy laughed again, his voice shaky, “Its so funny. How good he is. He was always the better of the two of us. I was anything but- I’m loud, angry. A bit of an asshole. Stubborn. And Peter was all of those things but he was also so so so good. He was amazing.”
“He used to do this thing, when he was out fighting, where he would send me videos of himself, helping people,” Father Thomas raised a brow. Fighting? This boy had talked about this Peter boy every time he had come into the church since the first time with Matthew, and he had never mentioned him being a fighter, “And they were always so good to see. Because he would always send it when he had been out for too long and he knew it. It was like his get out of jail free card. He doesn’t- didn’t- know but I saved every single one of those videos.”
“Every single one of them,” He repeated himself, “I watch them when I need to fall asleep these days. All of the videos with him in it, I just watch them for hours until I finally fall asleep. And it helps. In the moment it helps. But then I dream of him and it's bad. Its him dying, every time. Him dying alone, without knowing that I was going to say yes. Without knowing that I was going to accept.”
For a moment, just a brief second, Father Thomas found himself wondering about accepting what. The light glistened off a ring on the boys finger. Oh. Oh. The boy had lost his fiance. This boy had lost the love of his life.
“I see him every day,” He whispers, so quiet that Father Thomas almost couldn’t hear it, “I see him in everything I do. I catch myself smoothing out my shirt collar, or licking my lips, things he used to do. I catch myself playing with my hands more often than not. I play with my hair when I’m tired now. Everything I do, Peter did. I didn’t realise how much he truly rubbed off on me, but now that he’s gone, everything I do is painful. It’s Peter. Everything I do is Peter.”
He glanced up at the windows, and Father Thomas knew he was looking at the Lord Jesus being resurrected, “So I beg you. I beg you that you bring him back. I’ll give you anything- everything. I’ll do anything so just… please bring him back.”
“I’ll do anything. I’ll trade places with him if that's what it takes. Just please. Bring him back.”
Father Thomas slipped away from the door.
He loved God. God was merciful and kind in so many ways. But he didn’t bring back the dead just for one boy, no matter how much the boy missed his fiance. This was his least favorite part of this job. The grief of losing a loved one.
He walked towards another part of the grounds.
He needed some air.
Three Months after the snap
Three Months After Harley finds Out
Bargaining
Father Thomas sat down next to the boy who had been visiting with Matthew fairly often. Today he was alone, Matt sitting on the other side of the church talking to the other regular attendants. After what he has walked into a week ago, when the boy had been having a moment with God, he had wanted to talk to him.
He sat down next to the boy on the pew.
“Father Thomas,” the boy spoke without looking at him.
He blinked, “You know my name?”
“Matt likes to talk about all the priests here,” the boy shrugged, “I think he finds y’all to be his friends.”
“We are his friends,” Father Thomas smiled at that, “Family, really. It’s always nice to see him.”
“Yeah.”
Father Thomas looked at the stained glass window, “That’s a portrait of Jesus rising up from the dead.”
“I figured,” The boy said, “My mom used to tell the story every Easter.”
“Ah.”
“Father,” He hesitated, “Do you think that God will allow for the dead to come back?”
“Who did you loose, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Peter. My... my everything, really.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this,” Father Thomas shook his head softly, “But I don’t think that God can bring them all back.”
“That’s not fair.”
“My boy,” Father Thomas sighed, “Life is hard. It is not fair and it is rough. But you have to remember, you are not alone. God is watching and is waiting for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your boy, Peter,” He considered his words slowly, “He’s up there with God. They’re both watching over you, making sure that you’re okay. One day, when your time is right, you can join them. When you get to heaven they’ll be there for you.”
“Oh.”
Father Thomas nodded, “Just have courage.”
“I don’t know how to have courage.”
“We all have courage.”
“Not me. Not anymore.”
“Are you sure that you don’t have courage?”
“Not anymore.”
Father Thomas sighed, shaking his head, “What’s your name?”
“Harley Parker,” his voice was soft, “My name was supposed to be Harley Parker.”
“Oh,” Father Thomas didn’t know what to say, feeling like nothing he could say.
Harley just looked at him with tears welling in his eyes with tears that wouldn’t be shed. His face was blank and cold, but didn’t say anything else, just moved away from the pew and walked out the church. Father Thomas watched him go.