Author: Kallios the Scholar PM
Now that the war is over, Priest is getting old. And though he hates to admit it to himself, he's getting lonely as well.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Words: 711 - Published: 12-15-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8797423
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Disclaimer: I do not own Priest, Paul Bettany, or anything else affiliated with that movie. In fact, I don't even own the computer I typed this (extremely short) fic on.
Very, very brief Priest/OC fic, onesided romance, etc etc etc. Takes place before the events of the movie but after the War between vampires and humans ended.
Getting up in the mornings, Priest had never expected to feel so old.
During the war, old was something that happened to civilians and members of the Clergy. Priests and Priestesses typically died young, usually not living past forty. As soon as you started getting slow, the vampires got you. If an older Priest was lucky, they were recalled from the frontlines to train new members of their Order, and could live to old age. But Priest had never expected that to happen to him. He was too good at fighting, and his patience with frightened, unsure striplings lasted only so long. But then the war ended, the vampires were confined to reservations, and the Order was disbanded. Like so many others, Priest faded into the background and found a job: shoveling coal into a furnace.
And now he felt old.
It was all the battles catching up to him, probably. That was what the Priest reasoned, when he tried to find an explanation. Bones that had been continually broken during combat pained him in the mornings, and joints that had been stressed and overworked ached in bad weather. His entire body was liberally covered with scar tissue.
How old was he, really? Forty? Around that age, at least. Priest couldn't remember the exact number. But still... another decade or so and he'd start to become arthritic. The concept was baffling.
There were times when Priest felt more old than others, however. After giving a beating to a pair of thuggish boys who thought they could break into the home of an aging Priest and steal what valuables he had, he felt no older than twenty. He hadn't even broken a sweat after sending the pair of them crawling away, covered in bruises and glaring sullenly over their shoulders at him.
But there are other times when the Priest feels horribly, horribly ancient.
He'd forgotten to pay the rent for his cell. It doesn't happen often, and the Priest usually just sends his money up with the other people living on his floor. But this time, he forgot, and that was why the young woman showed up on his doorstep, politely asking where the aforementioned money was. She's courteous, and smiles, and actually treats him like a normal human being. She could have simply sent a message demanding to where the rent was (as far as the Priest knows, she's in charge of it for the entire apartment complex) but she showed up in person.
It's perhaps the way the girl smiles—shyly, not coyly, with a spark of warmth that suggests she's more than willing to be friends—that makes him feel so very wretched and old. He's seen that sort of smile before, though usually not directed at him, and it puts a weight on his heart. She likes him, it's so obvious that the poor girl might as well hold up a sign, and even though the Priest cannot fathom why he still pities her. There are a million other men who deserve that sort of smile more than him, a million others who would be able to return it.
Keeping his vows is second nature by now. Priest gives her the money and shuts the door in her face. Few, if any, see beyond the cross on his face. But if they aren't similarly marked, then they are all so young that it almost physically hurts. Priest sometimes wishes that he didn't have to refuse.
He wishes he could talk to Priestess again, to help soothe this newly-awakened ache in his heart, but he has no idea where she's gone, and he's all alone. Alone, and old.
Sooo... whaddaya think? Is it any good? No, I won't be continuing this oneshot EVER, so please don't put this story on alerts.