Editing Testing Faith

"And then the Host said,'It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make a helper fit for him." - Genesis 2:18

The woman said, "The serpent beguiled me." - Genesis 3:13



There was a coolness in her face as she looked around the station, her steps brisk and yet not leaving the others. But impatience seemed to radiate from her in a manner that was not usually hers. Katherine looked at the train and her lips pressed into a smile. "I do not think that I will be unhappy to leave Paris," she remarked softly.


Ezekiel's arm and leg muscles ached as he stood on the platform waiting for the train. He hoped he would not experience a Frenze incident here. The events of the past night had been wearing, both physically and emotionally. And the Frenze often kicked in when he had pushed himself beyond his limits. But Katherine's tone of voice as she remarked on wanting to leave Paris reminded him the night had been long for the others as well. 


As he walked to Katherine's side, he found himself relying on his cane more than normal, and its sound clacking against the wood of the platform seemed excessively loud. As he got close, he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. "Paris has not been restful, to be sure. But for me, its highs with you certainly outweigh the lows of this past night."


Though she did not flinch, her body was tense and firm under his hand. She closed her eyes, her shoulder giving to his touch; his voice brought peace to her and yet a sad irritation that she could not muster the nobility to ignore. "I," she began and then inhaled as she turned to him. He was tired, so very tired, and she smoothed a lock of hair fondly, searching his face. "Where were you last night, love?" 


"Failing," he said rather curtly and then took a deep sigh. He should not take his anger with himself out on Katherine. He clarified, "At the Moulin Rouge with Monsieur Bertram. After that, on a circus wagon letting Selene Dashwood get away."


She looked as tired as he felt. He wondered if she had slept at all while in the jail. "I am sorry," he said, squeezing her shoulder slightly, "that I was not there for you last night." Another facet of his failure.


"As am I," she whispered and then bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Ezekiel. You did not deserve that." She looked away from his face, guilt making her flush. How could one man be expected to be everywhere? How could she be so strong as to battle a sorceress and yet be a baby when confronted with the results? It was irrational, but she knew that she had waited for him to save her and that weakness both galled and frightened her. "Let us change topics. What happened with Ms Dashwood?" She looked back at him, studying him again. He was using his cane, not holding it as an accessory, but using it. Her eyes sharpened as she stepped back to regard his posture. "We should find you a place to sit down, my heart." 


Taking his arm, she tried to move him to a seat. "I shall be your guardian. I suppose that I should have not left you to have to deal with Selene Dashwood. It was my folly thinking that I could take Madam Rembecki. You should have waited for backup with Ms Dashwood. We shall sit together and rest." 


He jerked away a little. "So now besides the Host, England, and you, I have also failed sensibility as well?" His voice rose slightly above the quiet rebuke he had meant it to be. It stung she agreed that he had failed in so many ways. The flip side of requiring honesty, he reminded himself. The truth was neither kind nor cruel. It just was, regardless of what he wanted from it. Or from her.


Offended that she felt he needed a protector (and that he had failed at being hers), he took his weight off the cane and stood straight, feeling it in his calf muscles. He may be tired, but he was not helpless.


Her hackles, still raised from the night before, rose again. "I would not have left you in jail," she snapped softly. "I do not question your sense, but I wonder at your choices." She looked at the height of him, tall with indignation and pride, knowing what pain he had to be in to accomplish it. But the petulance of the child had her and her eyes blazed with raw hurt. "Were Michael himself to stand in my way, I would have come to you if I could have. But I," and her emphasis made the pronoun ring, "was retained."


"It is no surprise you wonder at my choices, since you dismiss them without even knowing what they were." Did she not have faith in him? He had faith in her last night, which is why he had made the decision to ride with Selene. He had believed with all his heart she would be able to handle herself. Now she used that faith against him, the edge of her disdain sharper than the sword within his cane.


"Traveling with me on adventures will be difficult if the thought of standing on your own scares you so much. After all, it is clear you do not trust me to stand with you." He listened to himself in horror, the words spilling out of his mouth designed to hurt her, as if he was in a swordfight instead of with his love.


Her head jerked back as if she were slapped. "It isn't trust----" she began and then quieted as her fingernails ground into her palms. "You left me," she stated quietly. "I've come to depend on you. It isn't your fault; it is my own. I have no fear except losing you, but it seems as if I am driving you away in spite of that fear. Your belief in me is a wondrous thing, but I am a mortal woman. I do not know if you love the idea of me, or me, but the mortal woman still can be hurt by rejection, imagined or real." Looking up at him, her chin held high, she waited for his next pronouncement, girding herself to hear it. 


"If I must defend myself against imagined rejections, then I am sure to fall, Katherine. I cannot be at your side at all times, nor would you want me to be." He reached forward with one hand and took her clenched hand into his. He slowly pried her fingers from the flesh of her hand, seeing the marks left by her anger. "And because I never will be less than honest with you, I must admit I do love the idea of you in addition to loving the real you." As he talked, he could feel her hand involuntarily clenching his in what must be anger, or at the very least frustration. "But I am still learning to know you, Katherine. Can you honestly say that you know me so well that I have no illusions for you, that no part of your love is for what you wish me to be, rather than what I am?"
"Love is an illusion," she whispered with sadness. "You are a mystery to me, one that I want to understand, one that I cannot concieve of constantly craving to explore every day. We are bound by our expectations, strangled by our hopes." She finally collapsed into him, drawing a tired, strained breath. "I am chaffing against expectations, Ezekiel; my own, my father's, Neecy's, and yours. And many of them are assumptions that are nothing but wrong." She nuzzled into him and took his hands and wrapped his arms about her. "I am growing wings with your love, but I seem to do nothing but bind you with mine. I cannot help but want your comfort when I am frightened. I should have known it was there, even if you were not."


 Her hug gave him comfort, but yet also started to throw him off balance, his legs finally starting to give. "Let us sit down," he said quietly, the need to stand no longer important. Not letting her go, he managed to maneuver them to the nearby bench, where he gratefully sat down, with Katherine leaning up against him.


"You do not bind me, love. Your love is a strength and there is no weakness in wanting comfort. I had wished comfort from you when I sat in the police station, thinking over my failure to stop the gargoyle in its abduction." He ran the back of his hand softly across her cheek. "But no matter how I try, I cannot be there in all moments. So I must ask of you to be strong in those moments of fear. I know you are brave. Marshall that bravery both in my name and in your own, and I will be proud to have you as a partner as well as my wife."


The sigh was deep from her soul, a child's sigh, and the sigh of a woman who trusted implicitly and totally. She relaxed against him, melting her body in a warm blanket against him. "I don't care who sees," she stated, wrapping her arms about him. Nuzzling up his neck, she finally found his lips and kissed him. After a moment, she pulled back. "There is no woman more proud, more fortunate, more blessed than I. Pray for me. I lost faith and should not have. I am shamed and grateful that you are you. You make me brave and I shall not fail you again. Know that I love you beyond all reason and forgive me."


"There is nothing to forgive." But as he said it, Ezekiel shook his head slightly. "But know that you will fail me again. And I will fail you. I am not a saint, you are not an angel. We are only human. And that is the way it should be." He kissed her again. "And our love is all the more real for it. Do you not agree?"


She blinked and then smiled gently. "I should have been in a sour mood sooner," she quipped with a small laugh. "And yes, I agree. We should have such conversations more often." She tilted her head. "Maybe when we are less tired. Maybe over tea or lunch, we can find out what exists beyond the pureness of love and find out who the humans are." She kissed his cheek and stroked his hair and face tenderly. "But you need rest and so do I. Lean against me and I will make certain that no sorceress or evilness bothers you if you wish to close your eyes a moment." 


As she offered, he could feel his eyes closing even without a conscious effort on his part. "I am tired," he admitted. He leaned up against her, resting his head on her shoulder. "You will sleep too?"


"Later. You rest and let me hold the man that the Host has blessed me with." She continued to run gentle fingers over his face and hair, drawing the lines of his face. "I am quickly coming to the idea that this quest is quite getting in our way. We need to set aside time to talk. I want to know what your likes and dislikes are. And I look forward to failing you again and you failing me." She kissed his hair, inhaling the scent of it. "And for us being there for one another. Mere mortals. Together."


But even before she had said her last word, Ezekiel had fallen asleep in the comfort of her touch.