4404/Service Long Overdue

Service Long Overdue
Date of Scene:	14 December 2020
Location:	Saint Patrick's Cathedral
Synopsis:	Caitlin brings Terry to Mass, just before Christmas.
Cast of Characters:	Caitlin Fairchild, Terry O'Neil

---

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
It's perhaps the longest Caitlin's gone without attending worship service in recent memory. The long stint in the depths of space had been weirdly timeless, without the rhythm of day or night. Even the measure of hours was a little suspect; how long had they really been gone? Can you mark life with just sleep and meal cycles?

The return to St. Patrick's had revivified Caitlin a little. Some of the weariness slipped from her shoulders, the ebullient expression returned. Something almost peaceful on her face from the second she and Terry arrived at St. Patrick's and went through the services. Her expression had grown worried-- even anxious-- as the prospect of confession loomed on her. But upon returning from the heavy old oak box her shoulders looked as if an immense load had been taken off them.

The Bishop normally hosted the formal Sunday morning Mass; for the evening congregants, Father Patrick stepped in to deliver the sermon in a creaky but booming voice. It was hard to imagine a more unlikely looking priest; a wizened dwarf of a man, foot-scooting himself around in a wheelchair. Half blind, bald, bandy-legged, and with a knack for sly humor and surprisingly uplifting homilies and services.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin listens with rapt attention, sitting properly upright in the pew (over a sturdy joist for safety's sake). She's dressed quite simply for the occassion; a plain dress that would be a little severe were it not such a rich shade of purple, matching slippers, and her hair ironed out flat. It's a modest and humble look that helps offset her presence among the congregation.

"And as you leave today, I remind you of Ecclesiastes 5:10," Father Pat says. His voice carries with incredible resonance despite his size and obvious physical deformities. "'He who loves money will not be satisifed with money.'" A beat passes. "And if anyone has odds for the Yankees this weekend, please slip me your picks in the donation box."

Laughter breaks out among the congregants, Caitlin included, and Father Pat blesses the small crowd as the people rose from the pews with a great and thundering creaking of wood and uncramping backs.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
It has been a long time since Terry O'Neil whas been to church. To be precise, not since graduation. Nevertheless, he had grown up with the faith, and when Caitlin asked him, he couldn't possibly say no. And there was no way he was going to show up in anything but one might consider one's Sunday Best. Navy-blue suit with back tie, crisp white long-sleeved shirt, the whole shebang.

The service had been somewhat nostalgic, he had to admit. The plainchant, the candles, and the choreography of standing, kneeling, and reciting en masse brought back memories of going to Saint Francis. Good memories, but also some sad and bitter ones as well.

Father Pat reminds Terry of his favorite teacher, however, which is something he confides to Cait when the service is over.

"Father Hugo, my history teacher. Very similar personality and delivery, but he wasn't wheelchair-bound. Rather, he was minuscule in size and he would walk with a very hurried step, with very short steps. People nicknamed him the Energizer Bunny for it," Terry confides with an air of mischief. "He was great. He's the one who got me interested in ancient history. I wonder what he would think if he knew I am friends with two Amazons."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Probably about as well as Father Pat did when I told him I was friends with Thor," Caitlin murmurs back. The awkward Pew Shuffle Dance begins as the congregants move out of the nave and towards the entryway, where signs remind people of 'Free Doughnuts' downstairs. "He and I spent a lot of time talking about that. He's... helped me get through some stuff I... really struggled with."

"He's Jesuit," she adds, whispering near Terry's ear. "I think part of his priest training was history. But he's a total insurrectionist if you catch him off-guard. He's all in favor of women being priests and keeping the homilies focused on like, life and personal problems instead of the heckfire and holy scoldings."

She beckons Terry to follow and heads down the steps to the basement, going carefully and holding the rail as she does. One might consider her slow pace a little frustrating until one considers what it'd be like for the redhead to trip and take a tumble down the steps with people ahead of her!

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Makes me wish I had gone to a Jesuit high school. I kinda..." Terry keeps his voice low as they go down the stairs, slow but steady, "Didn't quite have the best time. Being the g-a-y kid in that situation isn't fun. Not to mention that I my first crush was a total jerk." He chuckles and shakes his head. "I mean, it wasn't terrible, just not the most comfortable... and the education was good. So... how long have you been coming here? I can't imagine our line of work makes it easy to attend every Sunday."

His stomach growls a little, and he pats it, promising that the sweet delicacies aren't too far away. Clearly, he's been spending way too much time with Gar.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin gives Terry's arm a gentle and reassuring squeeze. "About eight years," she tells him, shifting topics when he does. "More or less. I went through a couple stretches where it was kinda hard to be here. Not... I mean, Father Pat says 'First responders get a pass for Confession'," she quips, echoing his voice. "But just... y'know, um... our whole situation. Friends. Fighting literal demigods." She tucks some of the curtain of red hair behind one ear and leads Terry to the little cafeteria. The reason for Caitlin's slightly oversized purse becomes clear when she only gets one doughnut, and digs one of her protein shakes out of the purse.

"I'm still struggling with some of it. Father Pat says that anyone who doesn't feel a little conflicted about faith and religion is probably a bad Catholic, though, so I take that to heart."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"That seems like a healthy outlook," Terry admits, smiling in response to the squeeze. "I guess... I'm not really sure what I am, to be honest. I've got... thoughts about things, but I dont' think they're really orthodox anywhere. Getting Wonderlanded changed my perspective on... a lot of things." He helps himself to a donut because, unlike Caitlin and Gar, he doesn't have that crazy metabolism, and he has to watch out his intake because his greatest sin is a predilection for sweet things.

"I mean... I have to wonder what would Father Pat say to me being, basically, two souls milk-shaked into one. And one of them isn't even human, by definition." He takes a bite out of his donut, enjoying the chocolate and sweetness. "... Like, how do you deal with me? I mean, aside from the fact that I'm exasperating," he grins, walking over to get himself a cup of coffee, "On the metaphysical level, I mean. And, you know, you've got to introduce me to Thor sometime. I've always wanted to ask him if the hair thing he's got going is Valhalla or Vidal Sassoon, you know?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"He'd say 'Hi, since you're just standing around with your teeth in your mouth, will you go move the donation bins downstairs please?'," Caitlin quips. "That's literally the first thing he said to me."

She's grinning at Terry's question and leads him to a table backed up to an old pew. It's not much of a table but the pew looks sturdy, and Caitlin seats herself there carefully.

"I mean you saw him. He's been in and out of the hospital dozens of times since I've been here. Sometimes he can get around on crutches, but a lot of times it's the wheelchair. He once did a homilie with an oxygen tank nearby. He's one of those people who doesn't get hung up on the details of who you are. More..." She purses her lips. "More 'are you trying to be the best person you can'. But you really ought to talk to him yourself sometime. It's not impossible that he's funnier than you are," she tells Terry with an amused gleam in her eyes. "He's pretty, um. What's the word. He makes fun of himself a lot, so he doesn't take anyone's facade too seriously."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"He sounds like a character, alright. I hope I am half as full of life as he is when I am that age..." he pauses, and ponders. "Y'know, Colette mentioned the other day that I might be immortal because of the Cheshire Cat thing. I... kind of hope I'm not." He swishes his coffe around and hmms. "Being the best person you can be. That... heh. You know that's what I say to Harley?" he raises an eyebrow "She called you her pen pal. Did you write to Harl while she was doing time? Anyways... I ... sometimes it's hard. I... try. But sometimes I wonder if I'm not just... kidding myself, you know? Does this sound crazy? Because it's kind of crazy. But I always have a nagging suspicion that..."

He takes a sip.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Dr. Quinzel?" Caitlin confirms. She nods at Terry. "Yeah. It was... kind of random, really. I was doing my undergrad work and I found a paper she wrote. I was kinda shocked when I found out she ended up in Arkham after that crime spree. But after a little line dancing with the therapist and the director, we started corresponding. I think it kinda helped her to talk to someone as a ... well, not peers," she hazards. "But in that vein. Professionals."

Her tumbler rolls around and Caitlin's eyes watch the agitator ball at the base homogenize the contents of the tumbler. "Everyone on the team's got their issues," she says, finally. "The old crew, we've been doing it so long it's hard to remember that it took us years to come up with coping skills. How to de-escalate Raven, what sets Donna off. Keeping Gar away from bait in traps." She smiles ruefully. "I mean I can understand falling for a plate of bacon once, but /twice/ is just-- well." She shakes her head. "I think that if you were really crazy, you wouldn't be asking yourself 'Am I crazy'," she suggests, finally.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry chuckles, "Yes, professional. I never thought I'd be living in a world where Doctor Quinzel is living with my cousin, but there it is..." He huhs. "Bacon, hhm? Well, I am definitely not going to use that bit of information in any nefarious plots at /all/ now." he gives her a wink and sips his coffee, which has more creamer than he'd like to admit. He's never been able to take it black.

Growing a little more serious, he says "Thing is. I sometimes feel like a hypocrite. Because I say those things, and I honestly believe that, say, Gar can be better, that Harley can be good. But... sometimes when it comes to /me/..." he toys with his paper napkin, the donut having completely vanished by now. "Do you ever get the feeling that, no matter what you do, you'll never really be..."

After fishing for words, he finally says in a subdued tone, "Good enough?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin leans forward and folds her elbows on the table. "Always?" she hazards. "Constantly?"

"It's called Imposter Syndrome, which is a thoroughly useless bit of trivia because no one's ever comforted by it," she explains. "I spent my childhood being a very timid, very scrawny wallflower. I didn't even get picked on, I was so unremarkable. Then a few months after--" she gestures up and down at herself. "After this happened, I was suddenly cruising around with Donna, Vic, and Ri-- Nightwing. I wasn't anywhere near as strong as I am now. I was just a big dumb meatshield. I could take a lot of punches. Vic had all this high-tech equipment, Nightwing could do a double backflip on a balance beam without breaking a sweat. And Donna--"

A smile crosses Caitlin's face, too swift and complex to be easily dissected. "Donna's been raised all her life to be Wonder Woman."

"You can either give into that, and just... well, vanish into a hole," Caitlin says, gesturing at the missing doughnut. "Or you can decide to motivate yourself. The Amazons really taught me that lesson: It's not about being better than the next person. It's about being better than the person you were yesterday. That's progress."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry chuckles, "It's easier said than done, though. I mean... sometimes I look at myself and I ask how could anyone..."

He trails off for a moment, and then says "Want some coffee? I need some more. I'll be right back!"

He slides out and hastily makes his way to get another cup of coffee. And a donut. Very important, donuts in church. It's a miracle there are any left at this point.

When he comes back, he sits down and grins at Cait. "I'm sorry. Here I am like we're in confession or something, and on your first day back after all that nonsense. Hey... have you ever brought Donna here?" he is veering hard on that topic change, isn't he? "I am curious if you have. About her reaction, and all."
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Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Once," Caitlin says, nodding. "She knows it's important to me. I mean, she was curious, but... I think it was more of a 'being there for a friend' thing," Caitlin clarifies. "She thought the architecture was pretty, and Father Pat told a joke that she understood, so she liked that. But the praying was kind of ..." Her brow furrows. "Parallel," she says, for lack of a better word. "The rituals, the praying, I think she gets it. Though for Amazons, the gods are very real. Immediate," she hastily amends. "Queen Hippolyta physically speaks to the goddesses, and they speak in reply to her. There's no..."

Caitlin's green eyes go skywards to the roof of the basement and she blows some stray red hair from her bangs with a puft of air from her lower lip. "I guess there's no faith, because faith requires a blind leap."

"But, y'know. She knows that Church does something for me, and she's happy I have it. I only drag the crew out on holidays and stuff," she promises with a wry smile. "I know it's not for everyone. But it works for me."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"The way I see that... different gods work in different ways. To be honest I don't know if I'd be comfortable talking to a god face to face. I mean... what if they're the type that are omniscient? How do you deal with someone who knows /everything/ you've done. Including, you know, the /really/ embarrassing stuff? Hippolyta must be cut from a whole different tree..." he shakes his head, "Gosh, there are parts of my highschool days /I/ don't want to remember..."

He pauses for a second, and then asks "... when you were in Themyscira... did you see any of /their/ ceremonies?" he asks, eyes a little wide.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Only some of the ... um, dinner table ceremonies," Caitlin hazards. "Not any of the Mysteries or the really sacred ones. I haven't talked to any of the goddesses," she clarifies quickly. "Or gotten a message from them."

"Y'know, the point of confession isn't for you to tell God what you've done, Terry," Caitlin says with a gentle warmth in her voice. "It's so that you can confront yourself with them out loud. God knows what you did, and more importantly He knows *why* you did it. Maybe it's the same for the Amazons. It's not about... shaming someone for being indelicate or slow to figure something out. Like I said, every day the goal is to be better than who you were yesterday. If you're doing that earnestly, then there's really nothing to be embarassed about. Right?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry nods slowly, and says, "You know... I honestly don't know what I think. Being here-" he gestures to the church "Is nice. It's very familiar. It's like I'm in touch with part of my childhood... without the itchy uniform. But the idea of god. Gods. It's... tricky. You've got the gods back in Themyscira. Then you have the Norses gallivanting around with their perfect hair (seriously how?), and then you have churches like this..."

He looks from side to side to make sure he's not being overheard, and says "I asked myself... what if there isn't one 'god' like we think in the traditional sense, but what if all the gods are part of this ... big... god thing. Like, maybe, finger puppets that all connect to one hand. But then I ask myself- why are they so different in their message? Wouldn't it be the same for everybody? Or... would they know that people need different messages?"

He rolls his eyes "And then I start having the Cheshire thoughts and you -don't- want to know what the Cheshire side thinks of gods. Let's just say it's very typical cat-like thoughts."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin grins at the mention of 'Cheshire' thoughts. "I get a feeling a creature of primal chaos probably doesn't think much of the idea of authority figures in general. Let alone deities," she acknowledges.

Her face settles into a thoughtful repose. "I struggled with that for a while, too," she admits. "I mean Thor does Godly stuff. Lightning, wrath, all that. He does the sort of things that made it into the old-school Biblical stuff."

"But it's not about..." She purses her lips. "It's not about pecking orders and... miracles, and superpowers. The things /we/ can do--" a finger gestures between them-- "would look magical out of context. I don't know how your powers all work but mine are rooted in practical science. Just because I can't explain yours doesn't mean there's not an explanation for them."

"Really I'm--" she shifts. "The point is, there's religion, and there's faith, and religion's supposed to help give us tools for our faith. I believe in God." She touches her sternum, where her dress conceals a simple silver cross under her dress. "Knowing Thor, meeting the gods of Themyscira, they're-- it's easy to say 'these are real gods'. Faith ... well, faith takes a leap, sometimes," she says, with a wry smile.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Oh, well, yes. Cats aren't very prone to that sort of thing. They only recognize one athority: their own." He grins, "And I'll have you know my powers run on one hundred percent impractical practical magic. Technically speaking I might be a witch, except I don't look in the conical hats, and although I may have the legs to pull off Zatanna's fishnets, I don't relish being cold."

He leans back and nods, mulling over Caitlin's reply. "Maybe it doesn't matter which god you believe in, as long as they're okay and you are inspired to do good in the world. And for that purpose, gods seem to come in all shapes and sizes just like people do."

He pauses and looks around, and then back to Cait. "... I just went full heretic there for a second, didn't I?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Probably better places to say that sort of thing than Church," Caitlin allows with a sympathetic, dimpled smile. "If it works for you, though, then it works for you. Some Catholics are really big on proselytizing." Someone waves hello; Caitlin smiles at them, waves back, and focuses back on Terry. "Y'know. 'It's my holy mission to save you'," she quips.

"But there have been some very good people who weren't Christians, and some very bad people who were. At lot of very bad things have been done by people in the name of God, unfortunately." Her hand twitches in a cross over her heart. "So ... I'm kind of outta my wheelhouse, but for me, I need to always be doing the best I can to be a good person, but also to be a good Catholic, and... I don't know." She sighs, heavily. "Try to find the intersection that lets me sleep at night. It's not always easy."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Oh man... you've got your hands full. If you didn't notice over our three month jaunt, I have a tendency to run towards peril, not away from it." The redhead waves to the person waving at Caitlin out of general friendliness, "I mean, if I were tasked to save me, I'd lose sleep at night, too."

Teasing aside, he siles, "I'd say you do very good deeds, you know. On top of everything, you also teach. If that doesn't give you a short pathway to sainthood, I don't know what would. I know most of the teachers who had me probably already have an executive suite set aside for them in the afterlife, you know..." he raises an eyebrow, "But I do mean it. You look out for everybody. Me? I'm a spoiled hedonistic troublemaker through and through. I'm surprised you haven't given me a stern talk about my corrupting influence on Gar," he smiles and consumes his second cup of coffee.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin pinks a bit at the effusive compliments. "Thanks," she says, almost shyly. "It's nice of you to say. I try to make everyone feel... I don't know. Comfortable. Welcome. It's... weird," she admits, scratching behind her ear. A finger touches a simple silver earring; clip-on, naturally. "I'm younger than anyone else in the Titans, really. I don't remmber when I started being such a mother hen. Kori was as clueless about life as me, Garth was from Atlantis... Vic and Garf bickered all the time and Donna would just flat out forget to eat. Maybe it was a little... planned operant conditioning on my part, a little hardwire compulsive behaviour, and I think I read a Tumblr post about 'Baking Your Way To Making Friends'. Didn't know how else to contribute so... y'know, started making cookies on the weekends, then cooking, and--" she shrugs.

"But, um... I'm not a psychologist. Ha-- Dr. Quinzel is your therapist. But I do wanna point out that you kinda..." Her lips purse. "Well you like to flash the 'troublemaking hedonist' card a lot. I know you came up ... well, I know it's a struggle sometimes. Figuring out who you are versus who others tell you you're supposed to be. But you don't have to put that foot forward all the time." Her hand slides across the table, palm up and offering him a reassuring squeeze of the fingers. "I'm not saying don't be flamboyant. I'm just saying, you don't *have* to be." She smiles fondly.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry huhs, "Well, you know, you're a Fairchild- maybe you also have the operant conditioning Irish mother stereotype? My mom's kinda like that, she feeds everyone who comes under her roof."

An eyebrow is raised, accompanied by a little playful smirk, "Well. I /am/ a troublemaker, Caitlin. Even before I got powers, I was chasing stories and getting shot at. You've got to have that in your DNA if you work for the Planet. I mean, Lois never takes elevators down, she falls out of windows."

Then he grows a little serious. "Don't worry too much- I'm not doing it to be outrageous. It's... just a little liberating after hiding in the closet for so long. I mean, I went through all of high school pretending I wasn't interested in anyone after getting a bloody nose from the guy I -did- like. I'm just enjoying breathing the air. I'm sure I'll eventually get over the shock fact that a sweet and gorgeous guy like Gar actually likes me, but today's not that day." He pauses, and then adds, for clarification "But the Cheshire side is flamboyant. Can't really change that. Why do you think the Queen got so mad all the time? She couldn't stand the competition."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"I won't worry," Caitlin promises. "I just want -you- to know that we understand how it feels to not quite fit in. You've really earned your chops though. I hope you don't feel that way anymore," she says.

Caitlin glances at a clock on the wall and rises, navigating her purse onto her shoulder. "Well, we should probably get back to the Tower," she tells him. "Thanks again for coming with me. I hope it wasn't too miserable for you. It was kinda nice having company again," she says, and flashes a dimpled smile. "Outside of people coming to the big holiday stuff, I mean. Christmas and Easter are the only time I can drag the others in here."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry nods, "We should, they're probably wondering if I caught on fire when I stepped over the threshold." He gives Cait a playful wink and slides out of the booth, "As for earning my chops... I'll let you know when I feel I've got my big boy pants. I feel like I'm still in the short pants league."

A thought occurs to him as he looks around the room, "Christmas... huh. We're going to have to make plans for that. It wasn't miserable at all, you've got a priest with character and that's the way it should be, not the flavorless coat racks I had back in my highschool!" he shrugs, "We probably should bring back some kind of food offering for the hungry ones. Or maybe /I/ can bake something for a change and you can take it easy. I have Grandma O'Neil's mint Irish cream cookie bars recipe. You can tell me if it passes the Fairchild flavor test- what do you say?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Fair warning, anything I make, I add the recipe to my index cards," Caitlin tells Terry. "But if you want some help baking, I'm happy to do it. It's the only time I let people into the kitchen. I know baking is one of those happy family things. It sure has been for me," she says, and smiles approvingly.

"C'mon then, let's head back and we'll get to baking. I need to start preppign for Christmas anyway!"