Saiyuki Fanfiction: Things We Can't Untie Part 1 by Sharpeslass

Warnings: Sanzo language, sex and mild violence. This is a little hard on the Catholic Church. If that seems like something that is going to bother you, I'd skip this one.

Author's notes: AU, for ditch_gospel in the 7thnight_smut exchange. This was the most difficult thing I’ve had to write to date and also the longest. I may be wrong, but now, with some time and perspective between me and its (hellish) writing, I also think it is one of my best. Thank you so much to my beta of glory, jedishampoo, who, several times, talked me off the cliff of despair and listened to my bitching and always, always, gave me support and encouragement. Thank you to ditch_gospel, for coming up with an amazing and inspiring prompt and pairing, and thank you to the Merciful Goddess herself, rroselavy, for believing I was up to the challenge, even though I wasn’t sure myself. And thank you most of all to all of the fabulous participants and readers who gave this one a chance in spite of the crazy-ass pairing! I have never met such a generous and mad-talented group of women in my life. I love you all!

Things We Can't Untie, Part 1

There are heroes in the seaweed;

there are children in the morning;

they are leaning out for love

and they will lean that way forever.

- "Suzanne," Leonard Cohen

County Kildaire, Ireland

September, 1977

"Jesus, Fuck, Hakkai. Stay right, Goddamn it! Stay right!"

"Ah haha! Sorry about that, Sanzo. This takes some getting used to, I'm afraid."

"You're gonna fucking scrape the left-hand side of the car off into the fucking hedges... and me with it."

"Yes, well, when an eighteen-wheeler is barreling down on one to the right, the hedge-row seems like the lesser of two evils."

"Tch." Father Benjamin Sanzo, youngest-ever bishop of the diocese of New York City and its surrounding boroughs, pulled out a Marlboro with barely shaking hands. He lit the cigarette and inhaled, exhaling moments later with a long sigh. He felt his heart-rate even out almost instantly. The same could not be said for his temper, which, unassuaged by the pastoral green of his surroundings and still fueled by jet lag and a lack of decent coffee, continued to simmer slowly toward boiling point.

"If you can't fucking drive over here, you should hire a driver," he grumbled.

"You are welcome to do so, Sanzo," Hakkai, undaunted by either Sanzo's blue language or black mood, responded merrily. "Some of us have smaller parishes and must keep tighter strings on our purses. I'm lucky to be here at all, really." He glanced sideways at his surly passenger. "There's another castle on the left there."

"How many fucking castles are there in this country?"

"Most towns have one, it seems," Hakkai replied. "And all of them have churches: beautiful things, Sanzo, even in the poorest towns in the poorest counties. They have a real respect for religion here... I did, at first, wonder if the money might not have been better spent on people," Hakkai continued. "But as Father Lynch explains it, having that beauty on display for everyone to see and to touch is a greater nourishment of the spirit than a few extra potatoes could ever be. I can't say I entirely disagree with that, either."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, don't start..." Sanzo scrunched down low in the cramped passenger seat and shut his eyes, blocking out the suddenly thoughtful expression on the face of his oldest living friend. Ultimately practical, Sanzo had little use for the trappings and vestments of the church - and he seriously doubted that any number of stained-glass windows could make up for a belly that clenched with hunger, waking a child in the middle of the night.

"Hm. You might watch that mouth, Sanzo. The locals aren't going to take well to a priest swearing a blue streak. You aren't in New York anymore. Not that I suppose it's entirely appropriate there, either."

"Don't fucking lecture me, Hakkai. I'm the one who led you to the grace of fucking God, remember?"

"Would it show a disgraceful lack of humility to suggest that the pupil may have outstripped the teacher?"

"It would, yeah. It might also get you shot."

Hakkai paled, his face going nearly the same shade as his collar. "You didn't bring your..."

Sanzo rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Customs let me take my Smith and Wesson." His voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Into a country where they're fucking illegal. They just waved me right past with a smile. You used to be a lot smarter. How long you been in Ohio, again?"

"Iowa, Sanzo," Hakkai replied wearily.

"Same thing. We almost there?"

"To the convent? No, not really, but we're nearly to Kildaire." Hakkai sounded hopeful. "The town has lovely canals, Sanzo, and Saint Bridgid's Cathedral contains the relics of several saints. There is a round tower, which is open to visitors and from the top--"

"No, Hakkai. Just keep driving. I'm not here as a tourist."

"Why are you here, if I might ask?" Hakkai's pleasant veneer was finally cracking. He had been denied a detour to Killkenny, had been forced to speed past the exit to St. Patrick's Cathedral at Cashel and was now on the cusp of missing a cathedral that boasted some of the most vaunted stained glass in Ireland. Since arriving here a month ago on exchange, Hakkai had happily explored the length and breadth of Killarney and enjoyed every minute of it. But his work for the pastor of Killarney had left him no extra time to really travel. Escorting a high-ranking visitor had excused him from his duties and was affording him an opportunity that was unlikely to come again. Now with every carelessly covered mile, he was watching that opportunity slip through his fingers. And he was not happy.

Sanzo knew this. He watched Hakkai struggle with his rising temper, and then turn toward him with a smile that was almost frightening in its intense insincerity.

"Surely you've not come all this way simply to visit with a man you've met exactly once in your life?" Hakkai asked. He tapped distractedly at the battery light on the dash. "I'm not sure the car is holding up well, Sanzo. All this driving without a stop can't be good for the engine," he said, still grinning manically.

Sanzo sighed and ground his cigarette out in the car's ashtray. He knew Hakkai well enough to know when to yield. He wasn't certain that anyone could burst a tire through sheer force of will, but Hakkai's passive-aggressive abilities outstripped those of anyone he knew (including a very large collection of Catholic mothers) and if anyone could cause vehicular meltdown through righteous indignation alone, it would be Hakkai. He shut his eyes and cursed the idea of a delay and of an afternoon spent gazing at stained glass. The car had slowed and Hakkai was eyeing the instruments with deep concern, shifting his eyes occasionally out the window and toward the signs counting down the kilometers to Kildaire and its cathedral. By the time they hit the roundabout that would carry them either into town or away toward Dublin, they were going about two miles per hour.

"Fine--" Sanzo was slammed into the passenger-side door as Hakkai swung the car right, out of the circular strip of road, and simultaneously gunned the engine, hurtling them at a rapidly increasing speed toward the charms of Kildaire. "I thought you were worried about the car..." Hakkai responded with a bright smile - a real one, and Sanzo couldn't help the answering quirk of his own lips. "Idiot," he said affectionately.

"You won't regret it, Sanzo," promised Hakkai. "Anyway, you need some lunch. You are far too thin as it is. What will the archbishop think if I send you back to New York all wasted away?"

"He'll blame the crappy British food," Sanzo muttered and was rewarded with another beaming smile. "Idiot," he muttered again, hiding his smile behind the hand holding a freshly lit cigarette.

As it turned out, British food, or at least Irish food, wasn't half-bad at all. Lunch (or dinner as they insisted on calling it here) had consisted of fresh brown bread, amazingly fresh-tasting butter, thick, steaming mushroom soup, a large plate of oysters and a pint of dark, dark beer which went a very, very long way toward dispelling Sanzo's evil temper. In fact, he was so pliable after the meal that Hakkai had been able not only to walk him through the cathedral and up its round tower, but had even persuaded him to take a stroll through the town's extraordinary Japanese gardens. While leaning against the rail of the so-called "Marriage Bridge" and staring at the orange koi below, Hakkai felt the atmosphere tranquil enough to once again try to discover the meaning behind Sanzo's unexpected visit.

"It's that old bastard Coumo," Sanzo said to the water.

"Hm?"

"He wanted me to come to Ireland. He wants me to see his old friend, Father Jeany."

"He left you a note?" Hakkai asked, uneasily. Sanzo's answer wasn't entirely unexpected.

"Nnn. Paid me a visit." Sanzo turned and placed his elbows against the railing, staring at Hakkai, as if in challenge.

"Ah... em. Ha. So that's still happening?"

"Still. Yeah. Not so often, but sometimes." Sanzo's uncanny and unwanted ability to draw the occasional dead person into his dreams and communicate with them in his sleep was not something he shared with many. He'd told Coumo, as a child, of course, before he'd realized that talking to ghosts wasn't something everyone did - before he'd realized that not only was it alarming to the average living human being, but that to the clergy it was largely considered downright evil and very likely had something to do with Satan or at least some of his minions. Archbishop Coumo hadn't seen it that way, of course. In his eyes, it had simply been more evidence that his adopted orphan was special and spectacular. He had advised Sanzo to keep these visitations between the two of them, however. Hakkai only knew because Sanzo's ability had factored so strongly into their initial meeting and the subsequent events that had led both men to a close friendship and Hakkai to the church. Hakkai had never been entirely comfortable with Sanzo's gift, or curse, but he didn't see it as evil, and, if anything, he took it more seriously than Sanzo did himself.

"You didn't much care for Father Jeany when you met him, did you?" Hakkai asked.

"Not much, no. But I was ten. What did I know?"

"You have pretty good instincts. Did Coumo tell you why he wanted you to see him?"

"He's not talking much these days."

"What?"

"Vow of silence?" Sanzo shrugged.

"In the afterlife??"

"I think he's just trying to be a pain in my ass," Sanzo said pointedly, hoping that wherever Coumo was, he could hear him. "He said there was a gift for me. That's the last thing he said. Go to Ireland. See Jeany. You will receive an important gift - something you were meant to have."

"So you came," Hakkai wondered aloud.

"I had fuck-all else to do." A lie, of course. They both knew that Sanzo's duties as bishop were many.

Lost for words, Hakkai reverted to familiar territory. "You really will have to watch your language, you know. These people won't find that quirky or amusing."

"I can control myself, Hakkai," Sanzo sneered. "What about you? Are you gonna remember to call me 'Father?'"

Hakkai straightened and swept into an elegant bow. "Yes, your holiness, of course."

"Tch. A fine pair of priests we make."

"Speak for yourself," Hakkai said cheerfully. "I've been forgiven. Through you and the grace of God, I've been given a second chance. But." His tone grew serious. "I'll never understand why you became a priest - a bishop, no less. Do you even believe in God?" With some surprise, Hakkai realized that he'd never asked.

"Not really." Leisure time was up. Sanzo started back toward the garden's entrance, and Hakkai fell into step beside him. A group of women passed them on the path, stepping aside and bowing their heads, with a chorus of "Good afternoon Father," their accents turning the title into something like "fadder." Both men bowed their heads back at the ladies, and Hakkai caught the whispers as they passed. "Holy mother of God, but they're beautiful! What a wicked waste!" and the shocked reply, "Shut it Janine, you silly cow!" He turned and graced the women with his most winning smile and a deeper bow, enjoying the bright flush that rose in their cheeks. Sanzo simply hunched down in his collar and went on as if he hadn't noticed the interruption. "But the one person I did believe in did believe," Sanzo continued. "I'm following his path, not God's."

Hakkai sighed. He hadn't known Father Coumo well, but he felt certain that if the man had known Sanzo as well as Sanzo claimed, he could never have wanted Sanzo to enter the priesthood. "Well," he said, thoughtfully. "As long as you have faith in something, I suppose."

"Less and less every day, my friend." Hakkai nearly stopped in his tracks at this unexpected candidness. To his credit, his steps barely faltered. But Sanzo still caught the hesitation, and cursed himself silently for his own reveal.

"Losing him was very hard," Hakkai said, managing to sound matter-of-fact instead of sympathetic, and Sanzo appreciated the effort. Still, he had to laugh.

"Hah. If only he'd stay lost. Fuck, it's getting late. Are we going to make it tonight? They're expecting me."

They'd reached the car and Hakkai glanced at the clock on the dash as he started the engine. "We can make it, but it's going to be pretty late. Are you sure you won't consider spending the night in Dublin? You'd be all rested when you got to the convent in the morning."

Sanzo silently congratulated Hakkai for being one of the most persistent bastards he knew. The Book of Kells was shining in all its illuminated glory in Hakkai's mind - Sanzo could practically see King's College reflected in his friend's glasses.

"No."

Hakkai sighed heavily as he pulled the car back onto the road. "Oh, well. Sisters of Mercy, here we come."

"You didn't have to come along, you know." Sanzo said digging in his robes for a cigarette.

"A little girl from the parish was sent there a few weeks back," Hakkai explained. "I wasn't sure why, to be honest, but Father Lynch thought it was for the best - said she'd be looked after. Just the same, I'd very much like to check up on her. I felt a bit sorry for her, really."

Sanzo was startled by the revelation. "You've got prostitutes in Killarney?"

"No." Hakkai shook his head. "None at all, to my knowledge, and it's not a large parish."

"Then why...? Are you sure? I was told this was a home for fallen women."

"So was I," Hakkai agreed. "That's why I was so confused. But Father Lynch explained that it isn't just prostitutes anymore. They sort of take in any girls who are in a bit of trouble, morally speaking, if you know what I mean."

"So, this girl of yours was just a slut?"

"Sanzo! Please! I really hate that word. And no. No, I didn't think so, but, well... It is very much a different country, in spite of us sharing a language. In any case, that is part of the reason I wanted to check up on her. If it seems like she doesn't belong there, well, perhaps I can convince her parents to bring her back home."

"Should you be interfering like that? You said it yourself, Hakkai. Our ways are not theirs."

"I have a job to do here, Sanzo. I'm meant to be bringing comfort to these people."

"No. You are meant to be bringing them the word of God."

"Aren't they one and the same?"

Sanzo barked out a laugh. "Why the hell would you ever think that?" Unaware of the dismay Sanzo's words had produced in Hakkai, he shut his eyes. He had no idea what time it was in New York, but his body very much wanted to be asleep, and he'd far exceeded his word quota for the day. He'd slipped off before Hakkai's unhappy sigh had faded into silence.

***

Several hours later, Sanzo was jolted abruptly from dreams which scattered and fled as he came instantly and fully awake to a squealing of tires and the hard jerk of his seatbelt across his chest. Full darkness had fallen, along with a quantity of rain, which was still coming down hard.

The car was at a stop, engine now off, by the side of the narrow road. Sanzo noted that in coming to a standstill, Hakkai had managed to actually wedge the passenger side of the car into the hedge that lined the road on either side. He was momentarily relieved that the rental had not been in his name. The dome light cast a faint illumination over Hakkai as he struggled to fold the large map which had not only been useless in helping Hakkai get his bearings, but had in fact drastically lowered the efficacy of his driving.

"Gah," said Sanzo, as Hakkai flailed and a sharp corner of the flapping map tried to slice into his eye.

"Oh, Sanzo," Hakkai addressed him in a voice of strained good cheer. "You're awake. Sleep well? I'm afraid we may have a flat."

"Where're we?" Sanzo grunted, trying to stretch sore limbs in the cramped space.

"Ah haha. Yes. Quite. Good question. Ireland, I think, as we haven't crossed any large bodies of water. But beyond that, I think your guess is as good as mine."

Hakkai had given up on getting anything useful out of the map and had been attempting to fold it back up, preparatory to just heading southeast and hoping for the best, when the front right tire had hit what he hoped had been a large rock and not a badger or something even cuter, like a rabbit, or larger, like a sheep.

Both men jumped, hearts in mouths, at a sharp rapping on the darkened driver's-side window. Before they'd had time to recover, a bright light beamed into the vehicle, temporarily blinding them both. Hakkai quickly crammed the unruly map into the back seat and began to crank down his window. The source of the light and the rapping turned out to be a man, standing just outside the car in the rain. Presumably his car was parked nearby, but due to the dark, and the rain, neither Sanzo nor Hakkai had noticed its approach. Nonetheless, Hakkai, at least, was more grateful than shaken by the materialization; he had admitted directional defeat. The map had won and they needed help.

"Evenin' Fadder," came the voice from behind the flashlight.

"Good evening!" Hakkai squinted into the light, unable to make out the face behind it.

"Sorry." The light lowered and sparkling dark eyes twinkled at him from beneath the rim of one of those tweed caps that seemed to be handed out, along with tall boots and tweed jackets, to all of the men in Ireland at birth. "You'll be the American priests, then? Father Jeany sent me to find you. Thought you might have been lost in all this." He waved a hand at the rain. "Weather's got no consideration for men of God, it seems," he said with a grin.

Hakkai laughed. "Yes, yes. Wonderful. Thank you!" he beamed. Sanzo rolled his eyes.

"If you'll forgive me, I'm gonna have to ask your holinesses to get a wee bit damp. We'll take my car to the house." He paused and shone his light at the tire beside his foot. "Got a burst tire, eh? We'll come fetch it back for you tomorrow." He swung Hakkai's door open and extended a hand. "Name's O'Shaw, by the way, Joe O'Shaw. Call me Joe." He yanked Hakkai out of the vehicle and grinned when Hakkai slipped slightly coming up against O'Shaw's chest with a solid thump, forcing him to catch himself by encircling the man's waist with both arms. "I'm pleased ta meet you too, Father," Joe said, with what Hakkai saw as an amused smile and Sanzo was quite certain was a leer.

Joe himself would have sincerely denied consciously leering at a priest, but had, quite frankly, never seen one this good-looking before, even taking into account the presence of Father Jeany back at the convent and he was a fine-looking man. Hakkai righted himself and Joe opened an umbrella, handing it off to Hakkai and gesturing him toward his vehicle, standing a few feet away with its lights on. Hakkai shook his head, handed the umbrella back to Joe with a damp but lovely smile, and made a dash for it. Joe started around to the passenger side of the car, coming up short in front of the vehicle when he realized that access was completely blocked by the hedge-row.

"That was some driving, Father!" he shouted after Hakkai.

"What?" Hakkai called back. "Oh. Oh, yes. Sorry!"

Joe looked back at the vehicle and grimaced, then raised his eyes to the windshield and steeled his nerve at the openly hostile expression in the remaining priest's eyes. "Wanna climb over, father?" he offered.

"You can't fix a flat?" Sanzo challenged. Joe stared at him for a moment, nonplussed.

"In this shite?" he finally asked. "Sure, I can, but I'm not going to." The title of "father" was conspicuous by its absence. "So you'd best slide your holy arse over here, unless you fancy spending the night under the stars-- what you can see of 'em."

"Tch." Sanzo raised his eyebrows, but shifted his ass. "Irish, fucking, asshole," he muttered, refusing both Joe's hand and the umbrella. Lowering his head against the rain, he ran to join Hakkai in Joe's car.

O'Shaw followed with the umbrella and a shake of the head, as he tried to clear his ears of the rain that had obviously gotten into them.

***

Sisters of Mercy Convent & Reformatory

County Meath, Ireland

After washing up and changing into dry clothes, Sanzo and Hakkai were led by a young nun to the private dining room of Bishop Jeany's home, situated next to, but not directly connected to, the Sisters of Mercy convent, laundry and home for penitent women. The dining room was large and dark, its wood surfaces glowing in the light from a blazing fire. Covered dishes were laid out on sideboard and table and Hakkai, who considered it a very long time since their small but then-satisfying lunch, found his stomach rumbling slightly as the smells of homey Irish cooking reached his nose. They were greeted immediately by a darkly attractive priest, who introduced himself as the Bishop, Father Jeany, and an equally striking woman, who, even covered from head to toe in habit and wimple, projected an air of cold, hard beauty. She was the Mother Superior, Shue. Hakkai took her hand in turn, and was not surprised that it was cold. The pair of them, he thought privately, more resembled a fairy king and queen out of pagan Irish legend than anything the Catholic Church had yet coughed up.

He let his fancy run for a moment to the idea that perhaps the real Bishop and Mother Superior were gagged and bound somewhere, as the denizens of Faerie, called in by the spark of life in the convent's captive girls, had stepped in to run amok. He realized he half-hoped it was true and allowed himself a rueful smile as he took his seat at the table. He bent his head as Jeany began grace. There was a story here, he had no doubt, but it was not to be that story, as much as the wilder parts of him regretted that truth.

Sanzo, on the other hand, had not been swept away. He scrutinized the Bishop and Mother Superior and saw nothing in either smooth exterior that hinted at character traits the Coumo he had known would have looked for in his friends. Jeany hadn't changed much in the eighteen years since Sanzo had seen him last, and he found he still didn't like him much. He admitted that he didn't like many people, but the dislike he felt for Jeany wasn't the same as, say, the annoyance he felt at that idiot of a driver/groundskeeper, O'Shaw. It went deeper - a vibe that troubled his soul and twanged discordantly at his peace of mind. Jeany, on the other hand, went on effusively for several long minutes about what a fine lad Sanzo had been and what a fine credit to the priesthood he'd grown into.

In spite of that, the food was once again a pleasant surprise. Sanzo found himself sipping another excellent pint and tucking into more food than he generally ate in a week. The number of potatoes on the table was laughably excessive, but the main dish, a thick lamb stew with peas, carrots, and more potatoes, was excellent and warming, as was the dish of fresh pale salmon, cooked in leeks and a light wine sauce.

Their host did not require much of them by way of conversation, largely leaving them to their meal as he promised them both a tour of the facilities in the morning. He then spoke, with some support from Mother Shue, about the Sisters of Mercy and its mission: to shelter lost women, to feed and house them while focusing on the more important task of cleansing their souls and bringing them back to the God they had abandoned.

"How is that done, exactly?" Hakkai asked, pausing in his meal.

"Why, through prayer, of course," Jeany replied with an air of surprise that struck both Sanzo and Hakkai as contrived.

"Prayer and good, honest, hard work," added Shue. Jeany nodded in assent.

"Ah, yes." Hakkai nodded. "The laundry..."

"Correct," answered Mother Shue. "It is symbolic, you see. They wash the clothes as they wash away their sins." She smiled complacently and made the sign of the cross, completely exorcising the remainder of Hakkai's appetite.

"And the church makes a tidy sum off of their labors as well, I suppose," he asked lightly. Sanzo pushed back his own plate and folded his arms over his chest, leaning back and preparing to study carefully whatever Hakkai managed to prod to the surface.

"All money well spent, I can assure you, Father Cho," Jeany answered smoothly. "You've been in the country for some time now, I understand?"

"About a month," Hakkai acknowledged.

"Ah, then you know how poor most of our parishes are, and how badly the church needs the money." Hakkai picked at the fish on his plate, unable to answer for a moment. He finally raised his head and gave Jeany a tight smile and a nod.

Sanzo felt a pang at his friend's too-easy defeat. There were questions Hakkai hadn't asked, and Sanzo wondered why but didn't jump in himself to take up the slack, preferring to bide his time. He had a week to spend here, after all. If events or Coumo himself refused to reveal the purpose of the visit on their own in that time, he was going back to New York and putting Ireland and everything else on this side of the Atlantic out of his mind for good.

Hakkai may have finished with Jeany for the moment, but Jeany hadn't finished with him. "Cho..." he reflected. "An unusual name for a Catholic priest, no question. Even for an American priest."

"My grandfather was Chinese," Hakkai answered with a smile. "My father half, and so on."

"My, my." Jeany leaned in more closely as if examining Hakkai. Somehow retaining his smile, Hakkai took off his glasses and folded them up next to his plate, then leaned forward, toward Jeany, elbows on the table. Sanzo hid a smirk behind his napkin.

Jeany seemed unfazed, adjusting his own glasses and peering more intently at Hakkai. Sanzo caught the Mother Superior doing the same. "I'd never have known," Jeany finally said, ceasing his scrutiny. "There's barely a slant to those eyes."

"It's so nice to see the heathen converted to Christ," Mother Shue added in a tone of saccharine sweetness. "Your grandfather, I mean," she amended at a suddenly sharp look from Hakkai.

Hakkai's smile returned and intensified dangerously. "My grandfather," he corrected, "was Buddhist."

Jeany turned his sly smile on Sanzo. "Your own name is quite unusual. I believe Coumo said it was Spanish?"

Sanzo's eyes widened in surprise. "Did he?" he asked. He shook his head in disbelief as he finished his beer. "Well, he might have. He would know, after all. He gave me the name in the first place. Always told me it was Chinese for "priest" or something."

"My, my..." Mother Shue murmured, rising. "Chinese again!" She gave the men a slight bow of her head. "Excuse me. I'll just be checking on the pudding." She disappeared through a door that Hakkai assumed led to the kitchen, and he could have sworn the air warmed slightly in her absence.

"Oh, yes." Jeany said to Sanzo, ignoring the interruption. "You were a foundling. Such an unusual thing for Coumo to have done, taking in an orphan like that."

"He was an unusual man," Sanzo shrugged.

"I remember, at the time, many of us feared the move would slow his astonishing rise within the church. I never thought so, mind." Jeany rose and fetched a dusty bottle and several glasses from the sideboard. "Whiskey, gentlemen?" Hakkai accepted and Sanzo shook his head. Instead Sanzo reached into his cassock and pulled out a cigarette, looking at Jeany with a raised eyebrow. Jeany nodded affirmation. "My home is yours." He produced a lighter and a cigarette of his own from out of a hidden pocket in his cassock. As both smokers lit up, Jeany continued with his story. "'Sam,'" I said to him... We were great friends, you see. 'You must do as God tells you,' I told him. And so here you are, now, and any son of his is a son of mine. Just ask, and I shall make it so." The charisma behind Jeany's smile was a powerful thing, and Sanzo just stared at him a moment, utterly at a loss. Hakkai suffered no such hesitation and pounced on the opening.

"That's excellent," he said. "Because there's a little girl from our parish staying here at the moment, and I'd very much like to have a word with her... before I go, tomorrow, if that could be arranged?"

"Go?" asked Jeany blankly.

Sanzo snorted. "Your handyman is taking him sightseeing."

"Handyman? You don't mean Mr. O'Shaw?"

"Actually, yes, I do," answered Hakkai, annoyed by the distraction from his original objective. "He's very kindly offered to drive me up to New Grange tomorrow and, as I've always wanted to see it..."

Jeany laughed darkly. "An ungodly man for an ungodly place," he intoned. "You've picked an apt guide. But you're free to do as you please, of course."

"If O'Shaw is so 'ungodly,' why do you employ him?" Hakkai challenged.

"I just thought he was an asshole," Sanzo muttered. Hakkai shot him a glance, but Jeany only seemed amused by the comment.

"Most of his family are good patrons of the church. His mother even took vows when his father passed away - he was an old sinner, that one. His ma'm's dead now, too, God rest her. But the lad is good at what he does and so we keep him on for her sake. We don't let him near the penitents, mind."

"What are you implying?" Hakkai felt suddenly and oddly protective of the friendly man he'd only just met a few hours before. There had been something savior-like about that bright smile in the dark, and Hakkai had very much enjoyed Joe's company on the short ride to the convent.

Jeany just raised an eyebrow significantly and spread a hand in front of him. He pulled a finger to his lips and gave them a knowing glance that said clearly "not for a woman's ears," as Mother Shue reentered the room.

She had two girls in tow who began, heads lowered, to clear away the dinner things. Both were very young: Hakkai guessed them between the ages of fourteen and sixteen. And while one was quite pretty, neither looked like his image of a fallen woman. Admittedly he'd seen few of those in his largely rural life, and both girls did look healthy, if pale, and well fed.

"Here you are," he said kindly to the plainer of the two girls as he handed her his plate. "Can I help you with that?" he offered, rising from his seat. The girl jumped back with a clatter of cutlery. Hakkai reached out, just preventing the tumble of stoneware to hardwood.

"Oh, no. Thank you, Father," the girl stammered, clearly confounded by the offer. Hakkai sank back down into his seat but continued to watch the girls with interest, responding to their curious glances with encouraging smiles, unaware that Jeany was watching him as he smoked and that the Mother Superior had an eagle eye on the girls as she dished out a warm custard for her guests. Sanzo, irritated with Hakkai's oblivious single-mindedness, tried to draw Jeany and Shue into conversation, but, unused to the practice, was unable to come up with anything sufficiently distracting. As the girls were making a final pass of the room, the prettier of the two grew bold enough to flash Hakkai a shy smile in response to his own. Mother Shue descended on the poor mouse like a hawk.

"Get on with your work, girl," she snapped, rising to grab the offending young woman roughly by the upper arm. "And don't be making cow-eyes at the visitors, you little tart. These are men of God!" Her last words were whisper-hissed, but Hakkai caught them just the same. Both girls flinched and cowered as she towered over them. A light cough from Jeany stopped her in her tracks, just as Hakkai himself was about to intervene.

"Now, Sister," he said softly. "Who wouldn't be curious about our illustrious visitors from abroad?" The tone of warning was unmistakable. Shue mastered her anger with effort, and gave the men a simpering smile which did not sit well on her strongly elegant features.

"That'll be all, Mary," said the Mother Superior, flashing a forced smile at the terrified young women. "Leave the rest for later. You too, Esther. I'll speak with you later." Dismissed, the girls scurried gratefully from the kitchen and the Mother Superior resumed her seat, wearing a now beatific smile.

"You see," said Jeany, when the girls had departed. "Well fed and cared for. The discipline is, unfortunately, necessary with such wayward girls." He smiled significantly at Hakkai. "I'm afraid they would have taken terrible advantage of your - well-meant, I'm sure, but misguided - kindness." Hakkai smiled daggers back at Jeany. "Food and shelter and the word of God, Father Cho," Jeany said firmly.

"And wages?"

Jeany gave a surprised laugh. "Would it be a penance if they were earning money for their work? Besides, they have no need of money here."

"Perhaps as something to put away to start an honest life with?" Hakkai persisted. Jeany looked at Hakkai blankly. "For after," Hakkai prompted. "For when they leave here?"

There was a long pause as the two men stared each other down. From where Sanzo sat, he could see Hakkai's bright green eyes, locked in a level stare, but Jeany's eyes were obscured by the candlelight's reflection off of his glasses. The glare leant his words a sinister aspect when he finally spoke.

"They leave here in God's hands, my son," he said softly. "In God's hands."

"Coffee?" Mother Shue offered smugly, breaking the tension.

Jeany leaned back in his chair and Hakkai slumped forward slightly in his own, fumbling for his glasses. Sanzo's hands shook slightly as he lit another cigarette. He exchanged a long glance with Hakkai, who now looked very unhappy indeed, and soon after they both truthfully claimed exhaustion from the long day of traveling and excused themselves for bed.

Hakkai was still simmering as the two men prepared to part at the door to Sanzo's room. The rain had stopped at last, and a dim moon cast its light into the hallway of Jeany's large, single-story home. They stood at the end of the hallway, looking through a window. From this vantage point, they could see, close by, the building that both housed the penitents and doubled as a laundry. Only feet away, the place still appeared dark and silent, seeming almost abandoned. That wasn't unusual, however; the girls, like many in this country, doubtless went to bed when daylight departed - saving every possible penny by cutting down on the use of electricity.

"I can't believe the church condones such places, Sanzo," Hakkai fumed. "I'm taking Molly out of here," he vowed in a low voice.

"Just cool it, Hakkai," Sanzo retorted. Most people knew Hakkai as a gentle and, above all else, ordered individual - rational and always thinking things though to their logical conclusions. But Sanzo had seen his other side and knew that, when pushed, Hakkai was capable of acts of dangerous spontaneity on an alarming scale. "Think this through," Sanzo counseled. "What if her family won't take her back? What are you going to do then - adopt her?"

"I think... I would, you know," Hakkai said, clearly considering this option for the first time. Sanzo just rolled his eyes, and silently cursed himself for having mentioned it. "Why not?" Hakkai challenged. "Coumo adopted you."

Sanzo gave a short laugh. "I was a fucking infant... and a boy." Sanzo pushed on before Hakkai could draw breath to respond. "Be serious, Hakkai. A young priest with a... shall we say, colorful past, adopts a pretty teenaged girl? Fucking brilliant. We'll have 'em draw up the papers tomorrow. Might as well marry her, while you are at it."

Hakkai smiled in spite of himself, now feeling a bit foolish, but the smile quickly faded and the dark, troubled look returned.

Sanzo sighed. "Look," he said reasonably. "You haven't even seen the place yet. Don't make this personal." Hakkai looked up at Sanzo, his lost look taking Sanzo back to another Hakkai - a Hakkai that the present one was clearly recalling as well. "She's not Kanan," Sanzo said gently and Hakkai uttered a small, sad sound of protest.

But he knew that what Sanzo was saying was true. Even all these years later, every young woman in trouble became, at least in part, the sister he hadn't been able to save. From anyone else, Sanzo's statement might have sparked an indignant rage in him, a refusal to acknowledge understanding, and even an inability to share his pain. But Sanzo had known Kanan - albeit after her death. And he had helped her, in a way no one else could have. Though Hakkai stiffened when Sanzo placed a palm on his shoulder, he didn't shrug the touch away. Instead he took a deep shaky breath and looked his friend in the eye, doing his level best to reassure him.

"I know," he answered evenly. "I know."

"Go on your trip, Hakkai," Sanzo said, tension he hadn't known he'd been holding ebbing from him. "Enjoy the wonders of the ancient Druidic monuments. Gather your thoughts. Talk with an idiot. You can ask that O'Shaw guy about this place. And I'll take a look around while you are gone. What's Molly's surname? I'll check up on her for you."

Hakkai gave Sanzo a grateful look and, for definitely not the first time, felt privileged to have this man as his only real friend. "O'Shaunessy," he replied. "Thank you, Sanzo. I mean it."

"Tch." Sanzo waved off Hakkai's words, uncomfortable, as always, with gratitude. "Just enjoy the sights. Take pictures."

Hakkai laughed, knowing that, to Sanzo, staring at pictures of stone huts and grassy burial mounds would be just barely preferable to treading barefoot through a room full of fire ants. "Thanks," he said again. "And good night."

Both men retreated to their rooms for the night, feeling, if only for the moment, slightly more settled in their minds.

***

It was early September and, while the days had been quite temperate (if somewhat wet) there was a definite chill in the air now that it was night. In spite of that and even though the house was not connected to the dormitories across the lawn, the room in which Sanzo had been quartered for the night still felt somewhat institutional to him. He realized the feeling was perhaps enhanced by the odor left behind from a recent cleaning: the furniture was comfortable, if old, and the bed had been made up with faded but clean sheets and a thick, down-filled duvet, whose slip-cover was printed with large pink tulips. Nonetheless, after his naked body had been only a few minutes beneath the warm blankets, the smell of mothballs and industrial cleaning fluids became too much for Sanzo to bear. The thought of his friend trying to sleep across the hall rose unbidden into his mind; he wondered if the scent was taking Hakkai back, in his mind, to the orphanage in which he'd grown up.

Sanzo threw back the covers and crossed to the window, fussing with the sticky latch for a moment before throwing it wide. Unconcerned with his nudity, he leaned out, inhaling the cold, but clean, after-rain air. It smelled as fresh as the room did stale. Though the dark leached the color from his surroundings, there was yet a distinctive scent of greenness on the breeze. Sanzo raised his head, glancing up at the moon, now gliding quietly in and out of thin clusters of quick-moving clouds. It was nearly full. Lowering his gaze, Sanzo peered across the grass at the other buildings. He narrowed his eyes, staring hard at the one he'd guessed was the dormitory. It was still as silent as the grave, displaying no signs of life.

In spite of that, and unbeknownst to him at the time, Sanzo was being closely watched, and even admired, as he turned away from the open window and shuffled sleepily back to bed, falling asleep only moments later to the sound of the wind and the simple scent of green.

Sanzo first dreamt that he was a child. He lay curled up on his side, wrapped around Coumo. He was weeping bitterly as his adoptive father tried to calm away his tears. Loud, large sobs wracked his body, feeling too big to contain and almost too large to let out as well. His sobs were nearly screams and they threatened to break him. A dream... Even as a child, Sanzo had never cried. In his life - discounting infancy, which he could not remember - Sanzo had cried only once. The dream shifted and he was an adult, standing beside Coumo's hospital bed. Tears rolled down Sanzo's cheeks as the only other person that mattered prepared to go away - to leave Sanzo alone... in an empty world.

Gentle hands stroked his bare skin, as if to soothe, and he blinked in confusion. But he knew it had to be Hakkai touching him. If Coumo was gone - and Sanzo had watched him go, twice, it seemed - that meant there was now a new person in his world and that person was Hakkai. Sanzo lay on his side and let Hakkai's fingers slide gently through his hair. They moved to his shoulder and then slid down over each rib, fingertips trailing and barely touching, and Sanzo gasped and shivered at the not-unpleasant tickling sensations.

"Hakkai," he muttered, confused. He pulled away, rolling onto his back, escaping from the hands, while revealing himself further to them. "You shouldn't." A dream, then. They never had...

Two warm hands pressed onto Sanzo's chest and slid down. The muscles in his abdomen twitched as the hands moved lower. He groaned in not-protest and soft lips surprised him, stealing the sound. A dream. Because he had never kissed a woman, and it wasn't... The other person in his arms wasn't Hakkai at all. Sanzo felt softness pressed against him and held it tightly. A dream... So he could... He could... Those clever dream-hands found the ache that had been growing between Sanzo's slightly spread legs. They stroked, they teased, they tortured. Sanzo moaned. He could... He could.. . The realization that he was dreaming brought him closer to consciousness.

"No," he gritted, thrusting frantically into the touch, and clinging more tightly to the warm, soft weight at his side, trying to hold it to him before it became the nothing it wanted to become. He could... But he had to hurry, because he was waking up. And when he woke, his arms would be full of air and fevered fancies. That wonderful touching would vanish as though it had never been, leaving behind a familiar ache that would remain, unrelieved, to torture him, until, humiliated and annoyed, he untenderly yanked his own flesh to an unsatisfying release.

He realized dimly that these last thoughts had been quite lucid, as were the feelings of fingers wrapped tightly around his cock-- his own fingers?-- and the shiver of cool air gusting over the slight perspiration on his exposed skin.

Oh, God. He thrust again, his eyes clenched tightly shut against a realization he didn't want to allow in, and... Oh, God. No. His heart made a hard double-beat as his movements tensed to a halt. Hands still moved on him - not, though the touch was unchanged, erotic at all any longer, just chilling. Sanzo opened his eyes...

...and stared up into a pair of fox-like green ones.

"Holy FUCK. What the HELL?!" He kicked out savagely, pushing at the same time, shoving himself hard into the wall behind him and roughly ejecting the stranger from his bed. "Who the FUCK are you?" Sanzo shouted again, hating the hysterical edge to his voice. He rose quickly as the figure twisted in the dark on the floor beside the bed, apparently trapped in the sheets that had been kicked off the bed along with the interloper.

While looking for the light-switch, Sanzo's confusion and fear turned to anger. By the time the room was illuminated and he had turned to face his would-be ravisher, his expression was savage and he was wishing he'd been allowed to bring his gun into Ireland. His erection was quite gone.

"What'd you go an' do that fer?" asked the young woman, sitting up on the floor in a tangle of sheets. She rubbed at her elbow with a look of concentrated indignation on her face. "Idjit," she added and stuck out her tongue for good measure.

Sanzo just stared in utter bafflement for a moment. He quickly reached for a tee-shirt, one bearing the name of his seminary and one that he would, he decided, be wearing to bed for the duration of his stay in Ireland. He just as quickly shrugged into a pair of boxer shorts. He fingered his collar, lying atop his discarded clothing from the night before, as he considered that a priest might actually be called for in this circumstance. Besides, he often felt protected by the uniform, isolated and held apart from others. Expediency won out, and when he turned to face the intruder again, he was clad in boxers and tee.

"Now," he said calmly. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my bedroom?"

"My name is Lauren," she said, looking up at him without the slightest trace of embarrassment or remorse. "Though they won't call me that here, them sisters won't." Her expression turned to one of disdain and Sanzo found himself hoping she wasn't about to spit on the floor for good measure. He folded his arms and waited for her to continue. "As to what I was doing." The corners of her mouth turned up slowly in a sly smile. "Do you really need me to explain it to you?"

If she was trying to embarrass him, it wouldn't work. Sanzo stared at her impassively until her smile faltered, and she scowled back. She was dressed in the same grey pinafore frock he'd seen on the girls after supper, so she was clearly a penitent - if in name only. Her dress was hiked up by her position, as she sat cross-legged on the floor, revealing knees and a large expanse of bare upper thigh. Her shoes and stockings were missing. Mercifully her hands were in her lap, pressing down on her skirt and, thank God, rendering the question of whether or not she was wearing underpants largely unimportant.

Sanzo lit a cigarette. Lauren's scowl was replaced with a hopeful expression.

"Can I have one of them?"

Sanzo looked at her hopeful face for a moment. "Tch," he snorted, shrugging as he tossed her a cigarette.

She caught it and hopped lightly to her feet. She sauntered toward him, hips swaying. Sanzo fought to keep a straight face as she leaned in for a light, looking for all the world like a child playing at dress-up. All that was missing were the too-large high heels and the misapplied lipstick; the attitude was all there. She wasn't a child, though, in spite of her apparent immaturity. Sanzo would have put her in her early 20s, at a guess.

Lauren moved away, inhaling deeply. "Lord, I needed that," she said, trying not to choke as she exhaled. She launched into a coughing fit and Sanzo hid another smile behind his own cigarette. He reminded himself to be angry. This girl had been in his bed, touching him in his sleep. She could be a dangerous psychotic. She could have done anything to him before he woke: mutilated him, perhaps, or killed him, even. That did it; his smile fled and he turned cold eyes on the girl. She strolled around the room, smoking, looking at the furniture and examining the other uninteresting contents of the room while trying hard to look like a confident adult.

Sanzo took stock of her, sizing her up. Not much there, speaking from a purely physical, mass-based perspective. She was maybe five feet tall, if that, slender, but shockingly well-endowed. The pinafore dress, which hung loosely over her petite frame everywhere else, was pulled tight-to-straining across her chest. That abundant evidence of womanhood must drive the nuns insane, he thought with another internal smirk. They doubtless made the poor girl bind those breasts most days. He shook off the unbidden pity and resumed his study of the girl, who was now bent over Sanzo's open suitcase. Carrot-colored hair was tied back in a loose braid that couldn't quite contain her bright curls. The end of her braid was tied with a red ribbon decorated with two small bells. But they must have been missing their ringers, as they made no jingling sound when Lauren moved or walked. Her face was fey and foxy, with small, sharp features, slanted eyes, and an upturned nose. Her eyes looked used to smiling, but he thought they held traces of a heavy weariness, betraying the fact that she was no longer a child - and that she had suffered, in spite of the seeming carelessness she was intent on presenting, right here and right now, to him. Those expressive eyes narrowed in suspicion, her small mouth flattening into a thin line. Sanzo was preparing to resume his questioning when she spun on him, holding up the collar that marked his calling.

"What is this?" she challenged. Sanzo felt for a moment like a teenager caught with a girly magazine. Nonetheless, he was taken aback for only a moment.

"What does it look like?" he asked wryly.

"You're one of them?" Lauren cried, clearly dismayed. "Oh, Jesus wept. An' I even kissed you!" She began scrubbing furiously at her mouth with the back of her hand. He heard her clear hear throat loudly and-

"If you spit on my floor, I will kill you." Lauren paused in mid pre-spit, and swallowed hard. "And I sure as hell didn't ask you to kiss me," Sanzo finished.

"Are you a Yank?" Lauren asked curiously.

"Yeah, I--- What the fuck? Stay on the subject, you little brat. What the fuck were you doing in my bed?" He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to reply. "Why were you doing what you were doing in my bed?" Sanzo glared daggers at her from under his now-thoroughly disheveled bangs.

"Er," she replied thoughtfully, dropping Sanzo's collar carelessly back onto his pile of belongings. "May I have a drink of water?" Sanzo stared at her in astonishment.

"Do they keep the crazy ones here, too?" he muttered.

Lauren laughed. "I don't think we start out that way. Well, I did," she said with pride. "But I'm special, me. Get me a drink, would ya, Priesty? Then I'll answer all of your questions for you." The washroom was down the hall, but his room came equipped with a stand holding a jug of water, a matching porcelain basin and several old-looking mugs. Sanzo filled a chipped cup with water and handed it to Lauren with a sigh.

"Ta," she said. "You haven't any whiskey about yourself, have you?"

"Drink."

She raised the mug to her lips and then seemed to change her mind, setting it back down on the stand and looking up at Sanzo with shining green eyes. "I seen you in the window, in the moonlight. You were such a beautiful, fine-looking man, that I needed to touch you, just to see if you were real, like. I thought you might be one of the fair folk, you see." Her voice became slightly dreamy as she spoke. "Blown in on the storm..."

"Ch," Sanzo snorted, thinking privately that the fairy description fit Lauren better than it did him. "So you came through the window, you touched me, I was real. Question answered. Why didn't you just fuck off after that?"

Lauren appeared to consider the question. "I may be in this place forever, Father Yankee Priest," she said solemnly. "They don't let you out, you know. Not till you die."

"Yeah," Sanzo nodded. "We'd kinda figured that out."

Lauren bobbed her head happily in agreement. "Then you know," she pronounced conspiratorially.

Sanzo narrowed his eyes. "Speak fucking English. I know what, exactly?"

"Why, that I didn't want to die a virgin," she said, as though it were the most obvious conclusion ever drawn.

It was Sanzo's turn to choke. "Why me?" he glowered finally. "There have to be other choices. What about that handyman guy?" Sanzo cast about for the name. "Joe-Bob or Joe-Joe, or whatever."

Lauren giggled and rolled her eyes. "Oh, him? No, I never would... But I'm not his type, neither," she explained. "He likes them... 'ehm, taller, see? And with a lot less up here." She gestured at her chest and Sanzo looked away, annoyed by the flush he could feel heating his cheeks. "Are you a virgin as well, Father Priesty?"

"My name is Sanzo," he growled. "And that is none of your business."

"What are you gonna do? About me, I mean."

Sanzo found he had lost his desire to kill the girl. She now seemed quite harmless, at least as long as he didn't let his mind wander to her softer parts or think for too long on the caresses she had inflicted on his sleeping body. Truth be told, he did feel sorry for her, her and all the other sorry inmates in this cold, heartless asylum: locked in forever, forgotten and unloved.

"Look," he said with a sigh. "Why don't you just bugger off, okay? And we'll both forget we ever met."

"Really!?" Lauren squeaked. "Oh, but you are lovely!" She pressed her hands together. "You never are one of them!" Before Sanzo saw her move, Lauren had launched herself at him and he once again had his arms all full of soft, warm, buxom woman.

"Oof! Uh, off!" he stammered, pushing her away - not quite before his body had time to react to the contact.

Lauren regarded him from a few feet away, stopping her scan when her eyes lit upon his thin boxer shorts. She looked up and into his eyes, that sly smile creeping back onto her face. "You sure you don't want to...?"

"Out," Sanzo gritted. "Before I change my fucking mind." Fortunately, she didn't ask about what. She was at the window in a flash, sliding spryly out into the night. Sanzo gave a sigh of relief as the corner of her skirt slipped out after her. He jumped when her head popped back in just moments later.

"Did you meet Jeany?" she asked. "And my Mother Superior?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you think, then?"

"Not much," Sanzo snorted.

Lauren grinned and winked. "I'll be seein' you, Priesty Sanzo," she called. She blew him a kiss and was gone.

Sanzo crossed over to his bag, retrieved his flask and drained it in three long gulps. He walked over to the window and closed it firmly, latching it, and checking the lock. He then lay down on his bed and soon fell into a bourbon-fueled and quite dreamless sleep.

ON TO PART TWO