Confessional (Peter, Flynn)

[myeyesarehollow.livejournal.com]

Flynn had created seven piles of jelly beans, separated into colour. He was trying random combinations of the colours, playing the mismatched flavour game he usually played with Quinn, only this time it was one-sided. Sure, it was ever-so-slightly sad, but there wasn't much else to do. He was solitaired out. "Blech!" Flynn screwed his face up as he lifted it to glance at his unconscious husband. "Green and pink taste like arse, Babe."

Peter walked in and, having caught the last part of that, he raised his eyebrows at his dear friend. "Erm...bad time?" he said with just a touch of amusement in his voice.

Flynn swallowed his unfortunate mouthful and then he smiled up at Peter. Whenever Peter was around, Flynn felt a strange sense of calm. The man just soothed him. Flynn was used to taking care of himself, as well as anyone else around him. While Peter was there, Flynn didn't have to take care of anyone. Peter could take care of Flynn. "No, just playing a game. Usually Quinn tells me which combination to try and then he laughs at my unfortunate face when it turns out to be horrible. I just thought I'd try all the combinations and tell him the results, since he's still asleep and everything." Quinn was still in a coma and he had been since Flynn's older brother Frankie had attacked him. "Do you want to sit?" Flynn pointed to the chair beside him.

"I would, thank you." Peter smiled at Flynn and he took his seat only after saying hello to Quinn. Flynn's heart warmed at seeing someone acting like Quinn was present in the room. It was a good reminder. "So...one tasted like arse?"

"Hah! Pink and green." Flynn popped two red jelly beans into his mouth to rid himself of arse taste. "Did you come to see Quinn, or me?"

"Both of you," Peter replied easily. "I do admit to wanting to check up on you and a certain amount of worry. Abby said you hadn't been eating?"

Flynn looked instantly ashamed. "Well I've had the jelly beans..."

Peter leaned forward, his expression kind and concerned. "I don't think they count as real food, even when they are flavoured to masquerade as fruits...and...arses, apparently."

The humour caught Flynn by surprise, mostly because Peter had looked so perplexed as he said it, and he snorted and laughed out loud for the first time since rushing to his injured husband's side. It felt good. "You're right," he said when he calmed. "I'll eat."

"You don't even have to leave the room. Leave it to me." Peter rose to fetch some nosh for Flynn, and Flynn was both so tired and hungry, he didn't even argue. If Peter wanted to feed him, Flynn would let him.

When Peter returned, Flynn accepted the food gratefully and he had eaten half of one of the sandwiches before Peter had even reclaimed his seat. Flynn looked up at him after he finished the other half and then, with slight trepidation, he asked Peter something he had wanted to ask for a long time, though he started in a very round about way. "Peter? Did you have like...maids or things when you grew up?" Flynn knew Peter had been incredibly rich, but that was the summation of his knowledge on the subject.

Flynn could feel Peter's eyes on him, studying him, searching to see if there was a deeper meaning to his question. They had had such different experiences growing up, even if both of them had done so in environments that did not offer much love. Flynn had had very little and then he had had nothing. Peter, even after being orphaned at 14, had always had enough money to buy himself anything he wanted. Including a rundown hospital to turn into a supernatural sanctuary. It made sense Flynn might be curious about that. "We did," he said, and Flynn detected shame in his voice. "I'm exactly the kind of rich, English wanker you didn't hold with, aren't I?"

Flynn winced a little, ashamed himself. "That wasn't why I was asking," he was quick to say. His questioning had nothing to do with his part in the PIRA. It was a matter of spirituality, or it would be when he got to it.

"I know that, Flynn. I'm just not proud of how I grew up. I think when you can buy your children anything and pay people to care for them, it becomes far too easy to forget that they need you to spend time with them too. Stuff and other people only count for so much. I had a nanny. One just for me, my sisters had their own. It was...not ideal, and yet I know how lucky I was to have my basic needs met. There were some others, however, I don't feel were adequately catered for."

"Just the idea of it is so strange," Flynn said, his voice a little distant.

"It's why I try so hard to be there for my kids. Even with all the shite that goes on, I know they need me too. Why do you ask, Flynn?"

"I was just...thinking about how things are different for people. To me, the idea of a maid and nannies is so ridiculously foreign and to you, the idea of someone selling themselves for money might be...you know...insane-sounding...?"

Peter was well used to dealing with people confiding in him, and he read in an instant that Flynn was leading him somewhere, though Flynn was reticent to lead further. To Flynn's relief, Peter picked up where he had trailed off so he didn't have to go further without prompting. "It's not in my frame of reference, no. Though I can certainly understand the willingness to do anything for a meal. If that. In the bunker, when I had no other choice, I bartered with Svetlana for some food for David and myself. I don't think it sounds insane, though I wish you hadn't had to do it."

Flynn wished Peter hadn't had to do it either, but as Svetlana was now a very different person than she had been whens he had held David and Peter captive, Flynn didn't ask him more about his experience. He didn't want to taint what Peter and Svetlana had now with bad memories. "So you don't think I'm going to Hell for it?" Flynn asked, scared. "And...and I'm not...this isn't karma?" Flynn indicated his unconscious husband in the bed and he sighed.

They had never spoken about religion and faith before, and before Peter could really answer Flynn, he had to have a frame of reference. "I don't believe so, Flynn, but why don't you tell me what you believe?"

Flynn sighed and he gave Peter a somewhat pleading look. "Some people might think it's strange," he said quickly. "I uhm...I guess I always believed that, like most stories in the Bible, the idea of Hell was a figurative one. It was supposed to be a symbol, like if you were a sinner, you went to Hell. Meaning if you were a bad person, bad shite would happen to you. I just...I guess I thought the idea of Hell was like the idea of Karma. I never believed in life after death, though now we know there is... And I know Hell doesn't really exist as some sort of place you go, but I don't think my belief in the idea of a hell on Earth has changed. I...I did questionable things to stay alive and before that I did terrible things to people because I believed they were right. And I finally get happiness and something keeps coming along, trying to take it away from me. Peter, do you think it's because I don't deserve it?!"

"Not for a minute," Peter said, his voice firm. "Flynn, I can't explain why shite happens, nor can I explain why you've had more of it than most people. You're a good man, not a bad one. Everyone does questionable things. Hell, I've done them, and you lot still seem to think I'm...Superman or something."

"Maybe Batman," Flynn said, his eyes twinkling. Peter's words were helping. That Peter didn't think he was a bad person was very very good to know. Peter had been a priest, he would have to tell the truth.

"Ah, does that make Thomas Robin? Because I would have seen that the other way around..."

Flynn chuckled and he shrugged. "Either way, you should both wear tights. Uhm...anyway, I guess I just...needed to hear that. I spent so long thinking I deserved my little Hell for what I done. And then poor Quinn who keeps getting-" Flynn shook his head. "I just didn't want Quinn to suffer for the choices I made."

"Flynn, how much would he have suffered if you hadn't made those choices? If you hadn't gone out and put your own feelings aside so you could get some money to spend on food, would he have suffered more?"

Flynn looked down at his feet and he shifted a little. "I don't know. By the end...I think he might have starved...but it was hard to tell because he was just so sick...I didn't know how much if it was illness and how much was hunger." Flynn lifted his eyes to meet Peter's then, and he found no judgment there. "He probably would have suffered, yes."

"So what you are essentially saying, without realising it, is that you suffered in order to lessen someone else's suffering. Flynn, that sounds pretty damn Biblical to me. I don't think you should be worrying about your past causing this. This..." Peter turned to look at Quinn then and he frowned sadly. "What happened was just an unfortunate incident. One I would like to unfortunate incident all over your brother for, though I don't believe that would help much..."

"Wouldn't wake Quinn up," Flynn said wisely. "I didn't really think of that...suffering for someone else thing. That was kind of silly, I guess. So you used to talk to people like this all the time, huh?"

"I was like the parish's free counsellor," Peter said with a smile. "People trust you when you're a priest. Even if some people are intimidated. I don't believe I ever came across a person who saw Hell in the way you do, however. That's...fascinating. I'm going to look into it. It makes so much sense to me, and I just never considered it."

"Did...I just teach you something?"

"You have indeed broadened my horizons, Malachy Flynn," Peter winked at him. "And I thank you for it. Now. Eat your soup and I'll tell you about my crazy nanny."

Flynn looked up in alarm. "You don't want me to tell you about my tricks in exchange, right?"

Peter blinked at him and then he said quickly, "er...only if you want to!"

"I think I'll save them for a day when I want to make you turn as red as Deirdre's hair," Flynn laughed then, relaxing as he reached for his soup. "Thanks, Peter. I think you would have been a heck of a priest."

"I'd rather be a heck of a ....me. But you're very welcome, Flynn."

Hell on Earth may still have been upon Flynn, but Peter was here to keep despair at bay, and that was certainly not nothing.