#yeah okay I'm glad this is something I'm q'ing so i'll be sleeping while you read it

[blissfulalchemist]

"Did you expect this to turn out better?" for Cat angst!

Okay let’s start out this angst Friday strong! Uhm trigger warnings for mentions of death. It’s angst and gets deep. So uh yeah. Sorry.

Their footsteps are slow, steady...hollow as they bounce off the wood of this hallowed ground. His hair is still soft as she runs her fingers through it, head cradled in her lap as the steps move closer to her. The chains clink as they hold the empty bird cages above her, tears falling in time silently, the sobs having passed long ago. This isn’t real. It can’t be real, her eyes can’t focus on his features as they are, bloodied, bruised...pale. All she can see is the brown eyes that shined when he smiled at the world, his hair a mess when he woke in the morning after having slept with it wet, the lean muscle that held her close or teased her when they found themselves in the kitchen together. 

How did they end up here? How did she end up here all alone? The plan was fool proof everything went as planned….and then….it didn’t. The Saint was the first to fall when reinforcements no one anticipated came at them from all sides. She was never meant to run into the battle but she did, watching him stumble to the ground, a hope that if she made it fast enough he could live. Misplaced hope as she had seen the three bullets hit him in places that one could never survive even if he made it to a hospital in time. The distance she made him walk didn’t grant him any more time with her either. 

The edge of the battle field was met with words of comfort and reassurance while trying to stop the inevitable. Bandage after bandage was wrapped around him, her hands still working on placing more when she heard a commotion in the middle of the field. She looked up, there in the center was the Sinner, arms held behind his back by three men. He trashed against them his gold earrings flashing in the afternoon sun, dragged to his fate, forced to join like she was. Even after John’s death, one everyone blamed him for, it was still Joseph’s will to bring him into the fold, a fate worse than death for him. Mercy, swift, given as a falsely loyal follower took it upon themselves to shoot him….point blank. 

Hesitation rooting her to the ground, eyes wide, as his captors half threw him to the side to yell at their fellow member, her scream silent to her ears, rough and rattling her vocal cords. Her heart pulled to bring him back home like he would have done, overpowering any voice to stay with the love of her life. Lungs burning she made it to him, avoiding the blank gaze his hazel eyes held for the sky, she pulled, lifting him to her back. “I’m here. I got you,” repeated like a prayer as gravity from the hill helped her bring the two of them together once more. 

The three of them needed safety and only one place close enough to offer them that. Stretcher attached to her back with Wes lying on it and Rafael clinging to her, his steps faltering holding more of his weight, she walked, leading them to the church. 

Back to where it all began. 

That same church she sits in now, clinging to the last memory of him, the words he spoke softly, his thumb still trying to wipe her tears when it was obvious the two were going to part. “Tenerte y amarte significa que mi corazón está en paz. Nunca fuimos destinados a igualar las historias que adoramos porque somos nuestro propio romance épico,” his last words to her. The first declaration of love he spoke that she had understood fully after months of only ever putting pieces together. A tear in her chest with each word he spoke, breathing slowing down, heart in shreds. Clinging to him, rocking him, she waited until his last breath to scream out. Deafening in the empty church.

She only let go of him long enough to try and fight off those that came to drag Wes’ body from her. He was to become a display. A warning. She put up a fight, best she could keeping Wes as close as possible, but when it was five against one, she was easily tossed to the side. Her friend, best friend, the older brother she never had, and wanted back, “You just be careful out there. Can’t stand to see you lose.” “Always careful, Cat.” She couldn’t remember if she reminded him that he was loved by her as he had been taken, stolen, to be desecrated. 

Alone. 

Left to cry and apologize to deaf ears. Back at square one sitting in silence until those footsteps joined her. He finally stood in front of her, tattoos and scars on full display, hair tied back, and yellow glasses that turned his blue eyes green. She pulled Rafael closer to her, gripping as tightly as she could as he kneeled down to meet her eyes. “You can’t have him too,” she whispered, “You’ve already got the one you wanted.”

His breathing was even, she knew his face would have sympathy on it, the same look he gave Catlina when she first found herself in the middle of Montana lost and alone. “My child,” he reached out to her, she pulled back from his touch, his hand falling. “Did you expect this to turn out better?” Yes, “After everything that’s happened to you.”

“It’s not fair,” her voice is soft.

“I know,” she looked up slowly meeting his eyes briefly, “This world has been unfair to you. To us both.” His words were calming, drifting to her ears with a summer breeze guiding them. “Come with me. We can make this world a better place.”

She shook her head, fingers tracing her love’s features, “I’d rather die,” she brushed his curls from his face, “I think I just might.”

“You’re not destined to die yet,” the flame that sparked when he spoke of her destiny, her fate, remained cold now, embers fading. “How many times have you defied death in your life,” she kept her mouth closed, throat closing in on her, “Four times now?”

Catlina was twenty-two the first time, her mother left her behind, admitting that if she couldn’t be cured then she was no longer capable of loving her. Then again three years later, neighbors found her lying on the floor of her living room clutching the picture of her husband, pill bottles tossed to the side. Finally, months ago when she found there was no way out of Eden’s Gate, Catlina threw herself from the bridge. Each time someone was there in just the knick of time, saving her, granting her another chance at life. A life she no longer wanted, if she ever really did.

“This last time, God spoke to me,” I don’t believe in a god, “Showed you running to your friend through the gunfire. So many bullets you missed, knives grazing your clothes and not your skin.” She wanted to cover her ears, stop his false prophecies from reaching her brain. Too late though, her soul tired and saddened let his words sink in, little by little. “And then an image of you below the cross cradling the Saint,” Rafael, her savior. The one she placed all her faith in.

“I don’t want a purpose anymore,” she mumbled under her breath, sobs that had started to form, dissipating.

“I compassionate thee,” a sermon, a prayer, “sorrowing Mary, for that martyrdom which thy generous heart sustained,” she’d been to many services, “in being present with thine agonizing Jesus.” Never once had Joseph quoted this. There was never anything about Mary ever said. Not since she baptised before being married off. The change of her name and her first purpose given to her, “O dear Mother, by thy heart undergoing so severe a martyrdom,” this wasn’t the Mary she knew though, “obtain for me the virtue of temperance, and the gift of counsel.” 

Tears fell silently looking up to Joseph curiously, “What are you talking about? You never speak of Mary.”

He held out a scorched thin paper out to her, she took it gingerly looking it over, “Because I misunderstood her purpose.” There was only one line that was complete, “35 so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.” “Luke two, thirty five.”

Catlina shook her head handing it back, “I don’t want this life. I never did.” She looked at Raf’s face, she’d be joining him soon, “Please,” she tried to plead again, “just leave me be.”

“You want to die,” his hand brought her face up to meet his eyes, “and I can help you with that.”

Her chest felt so hollow, and yet….something spoke to her, “How?”

“We bury you with him,” she searched his face for any indication of lies or ill intent. Nothing. “And once he’s been laid to rest next to you, we give you a new life. One where all this pain makes sense, has meaning.” Metaphorical death, that’s all he could offer her. Another fake life, one where she was open to the pain of being hurt again. Catlina was tired of living….tired of being. “You’d never be alone ever again. You’d never live a life feeling lost. Catlina could be free from that life.”

Catlina….that’s who held all this pain. She was the one that was forever destined to end up alone. Always lost. Catlina was the one that wanted to die. 

Did she want to die? 

“You promise I can give Rafael a proper burial?” Joseph nodded, her mind straying to the horrors that awaited her brother. “I want to bury Wes too,” her eyes met Joseph’s with determination, “He deserves to leave this world loved and cared for.”

There was no hesitation, “Yes,” relief creeping in her chest, “Mary was always a symbol of love and compassion for all people. We should follow suit.” 

“I want to oversee it all with my own eyes,” or no deal.

He gave a slow nod, “Of course.” He stood holding his hand out to her, “Come. We must prepare them.” She looked longingly at her heart committing his face to memory, etching it onto her soul. When it finally cemented she inhaled deeply.

Mary gently laid Rafael’s head on the floor, her blue sweater softening the wood below him. She closed her eyes, placing a kiss gently on his forehead, “Till we meet again, amor de mi vida,” she whispered, letting go. Mary looked up to Joseph, placing her hand in his standing, the setting sun silhouetting her frame in golden light. Giving him a small nod Mary followed him out of the church to recover Wes and lay the three of them to rest.