the church

The sun glittered in his dark eyes as he held his head up high, examining the beautiful stained glass at the top of the building, over the entrance. He hated churches; well, hate was perhaps a strong word – 'deeply loathed' was more appropriate. His wife adored them, tho. She'd take the children, their two adoptive kids, to church on Sundays when he was off working. She'd often say how she got lost completely in the beautiful artwork. And he would kind of like going as well, as long as she was by his side. It only made sense that the place she loved the most was the place that killed her at the end of the day. The children as well. After that he never stepped foot into a church, ever again. this day was no different.

He lingered there a little, a mix of strong emotions caught his face. Just for a while; he needed to blink twice before he could look away from the image of the virgin Mary holding the Messiah in her hands. He always hated religious artwork, anyway. Besides, he needed to look away now, since he could feel the presence of another close by. His eyes caught hers, and somewhere he could immediately recognise the young girl he had once known. He was wondering if he'd get the chance to see her again. it was an easier time, back then; he had no kids, no wife, no love to be ripped from his hands agressively. »You're all grown up,« he said, a gentle smile lingering upon his lips.

She was very beautiful; she was so when she was little, but this was a different kind of beauty. She was grown up. She wasn't a kid anymore, you could see it in her eyes – she understood the world now, she knew where she was and why it was so. This wasn't the child he was once sworn to protect, the same little girl he'd put onto his shoulders when she'd want to play. The kid he'd spend hours with, the reason, basically, that he, at some point, wanted children of his own. She was.. a woman now. »I don't know,« he shook his head slowly just before recieving a big – very warm – hug that he definately wasn't expecting. It wasn't that he wouldn't want or even wouldn't appreciate the hug, he did – but the closeness felt almost alarming. Too comforting, too sweet, so he let go of her soon.

»I, uh,« he smiled after what she had to say to him at the end, the warmth in her voice telling him it was a lie. She wasn't angry at him, she was thrilled to see him. and he.. well, he was nervous. He didn't get a whole lot of reminders of the life he lived before everything went down, yet there she was. That little girl, all grown up, as beautiful as never before. »I'm sorry,« he said, looking into her eyes directly, a soft grin still covering his lips. »I knew I'd see you, I guess I figured it would be better if it were a surprise.« Lies. But she didn't need to know that. »I started working here like a month ago. Still pretty undercover, I guess.« Another big smile. No, she didn't need to know anything more. She was better off. Then a longer silence fell, and he was simply looking at her, his eyes traveling over the entire figure. God, she was like a fairytale creature; which, basically, she was. »How are you?« he finally asked after the long seconds of silence.

He shrugged his shoulders with a gentle smile, keeping eye contact. He wouldn't disagree with her out loud, but there was a certain bitterness in his mouth after she said it. he knew so much more than he would want to. he understood the world perfectly now and it caused him nothing but pain. Of course he wouldn't say it out loud, he wouldn't show her in any way just what kind of an impact those words had on him, but they stroke a certain nerve all the same. »Oh, don't be silly. You could never be that.« He wouldn't forget her, not ever. She was one of his first thoughts when he took the job, he knew he'd meet her sooner or later again. oh, this sweet child he once knew, grown up, beautiful.

»Yeah, I guess we're pretty ninj-ish,« he nodded, the wide grin upon his lips again. she felt like home, she really did, and although it felt so good to talk to her then and there, he knew it would eventually bring more pain and hurt than happiness to the both of them. Or to him, at least – to him, especially. He could catch the concern on her face, realizing that perhaps he wasn't as good as he thought he was at hiding what he really felt like. And he quite honestly felt like shit most of the time. »Don't you worry about me, kiddo,« he shook his head slowly, still smiling at her. He used to call her that, 'kiddo'. He used to craddle her in his hands. »I'm alright. I'm just so very happy to see you. I wish I could have stayed by your side for all those missed years.« He wouldn't have met her, he wouldn't have lost her – he wouldn't feel bitter about her and their kids, he would have had a better life. »I did think of you.« He did.