Trigger Warning: yandere, obsession, quoting the bible, fanaticism, angst
Character: patrick mckenna/reader
Summary: As in water face reflects face, so the heart of man reflects the man. Patrick has lived his entire sinful life in holiness, slowly climbing the career ladder in the Vatican with his head, and realizing in his heart, believed in his holiness, believed that he was going to become the second Messiah, walk down Via Dolorosa and carry the cross; mom always said that God had big plans for him. A plan was maturing in Patrick’s head, and he almost carried it out until he was prevented — by you and his feelings.
The windows of the room in which he waited tremulously were closed, but the air remained cold and unfamiliar, warning of something insidious. He was waiting for her to appear — counting the minutes, seconds. For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven, Patrick was taught patience. By endurance will gain lives. He glanced at the clock hanging over the door, listened to its knocking, which sounded like nails being driven into the palms of his hands and sighed tremulously. His lips were invisibly muttering prayers, and his hands were clasped in a lock.
He prayed for her, for his beloved, and before closed eyes he saw her image, her holy image. Patrick was ready to take her to heaven, to preach faith in her to the world, because she was perfect; like Mary, she would follow him in any problem, go to the desert, retire, do everything! She will take her cross, follow him. He wanted to worship her, to build a temple.
His angel will have to leave soon; she arrived to the Vatican for a reason, she came with Mr. Langdon, the man who ruined all his plans. Oh, how his sacred heart burned, became sinful when Langdon intervened in the case of the murder of the Pope and began to spread scientific ideas in the temple. He began to desecrate the place of holiness and faith with false words about science and critical thinking. People are not obliged to believe scientists, they are obliged to obey the will of God.
She was a part of CERN, a doctor of sciences. And Patrick hated scientists.
Even as a child, Patrick realized that he was His son, that he was destined for something more. He had to fulfil all righteousness, become a symbol of light, the Messiah! for humanity. He will go through all the trials, his Passion of Jesus has already begun; any minute now she will come, the one whose love he has carried for a long time, like a cross and no one helped him. This room is his Golgotha, not overgrown with rose bushes; here his end will come and he will ascend to Him with her, leaving a mortal body.
She didn’t believe in the Lord. Her faith was weak, she said that she would never change her decision; it was her conscious choice based on evidence and facts. But Patrick knew that Langdon had brainwashed her, knew that this professor had participated in the rejection of her faith. Your faith has made you well — that’s what Patrick told her when they were alone, they had to find the prints of art in crimes and stories. He also told her that the eyes of the Lord are in every place, observing the evil and the good. But she, his sweet angel, just rolled her eyes and answered something coldly, preferring silence. In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin, so Patrick only sat down next to her with a kind patronizing smile, watched her graceful actions.
Their first meeting took place on the day when Langdon needed him — he asked for access to the archive, and she was at one with him. He called them for a private conversation, closed the shutters and asked a simple question: «Do you believe in God?» Langdon’s answer defiled his heart and harnessed his mind to act more decisively. He did not believe in the Lord, did not follow the word of God, why did people trust him? Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned. In Patrick’s ideal world, anyone who defies the will of God will be punished.
She didn’t say anything, but then, before leaving, said:
“You know, Padre, when I was a child, my parents took me to church. I liked listening to the psalms,” and smiled. At that moment, Patrick understood the whole point of things: she is his Mary; she is a sinner, but he will forgive her for all her sins.
A day ago, Patrick gave her a cross. With a gentle, reverent smile, he shyly looked at her and held out a silver cross that meant the whole world to him. It was worn by his mother, the Mother of God, who so diligently protects her son from any influences of his peers. She was perfect, unattainable, and if Patrick had had the right, he would have taken her to Heaven; he was sure that she was waiting for him and his angel, his beloved. Mom had beautiful eyes, kind, she said that God had big plans for him. She said that when he was baptized,the heavens were opened, and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form, like a dove.
Mom didn’t hug him, she said that love can only be for the Lord, but is it right or wrong to kiss mom? For Patrick, there was love for the Heavenly Father, for God, and he considered other feelings to be instincts that make people look like animals; they ceased to be like Lord.
When Patrick was little, the sun was brighter, and Mom was the strongest in the world, he watched her. Watched her behavior, posture and appearance the same way watched beloved. Patrick saw the sanctity of his mother, with a gasp and tickling in his stomach, he imagined that nameless force flowing in her and given to him.
Patrick was praying for his mother. Patrick prayed for beloved, taken away by Langdon. She accepted his gift, looked away and nodded, but he felt her awkwardness and was angry with the professor. If there was one person to whom Patrick did not treat favorably, besides father, it was Robert Langdon. He had haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among Catholic brothers. Langdon walks like a devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.
The doors creaked open and rapid but careful footsteps were heard. It was her. Patrick was waiting for her appearance more than anything in the world. He hid the cross, proclaiming «amen» and turned to her in fright. She was tense, looking at him with confusion and a kind of anger, angry and determined. Patrick looked at her, tried to control his voice and thoughts, worried when answering and lost. He had never experienced feelings like this for people before; he always treated everyone with a protective love, the way the Lord treats his creatures.
Hands were shaking — was it cold or tremor? Was it reality or a dream?
She talked about the church, she talked about his decisions and Silvano’s diaries, but he could enjoy her, understood that very soon they would be waiting for the Empyrean. Patrick will teach her faith, and she will follow him. He is the Son of God, he will preach the faith all over the world! and hug his angel, stroke the hidden hair.
“He urged to notify everyone about the discovery. It could become a scientific proof of the existence of God! This could put an end to the enmity of religion and science! Why did you do that?”
“His discovery is not pleasing to God, it is blasphemous! Is it really not clear?”
She stumbled, as if accepting his words, as Patrick continued to advance. He was pleading, saying in his head like a crazy, fanatic: she will change her mind, refuse, need to become her teacher, her Rabbi! He will help her cope: her chest will be filled with faith and she will place all her hopes only on Him and the Lord. Patrick will not be able to find a single psalm, not a single verse to show her. But now she is like a black rose piercing his heart with thorns, and he is like a defenseless insect caught in the net of a formidable flower.
All roses go to Hell, but Patrick will help her gain immortality.
Her smell charmed him — she smelled of books, smelled of shampoo; as a child, mother said that there was nothing more beautiful than incense, soldiers did not talk about such topics, blamed and laughed at him. Mom also said, taught that it is always worth staying open before God and not hiding secrets, evil intentions. Every time entrance to the nave, he walked straight and, falling on his knees, prayed; Patrick talked to the Lord, spent the whole night in prayer and turning to God. Only the Almighty could understand him, His son.
In the light of the fire, her face turned red, transformed, and only half was visible. In addition to the fireplace, there were lighted candles on the candelabra in the room. It was dark outside the window, and Saturday was coming. The uncontrollable sun was setting, humbly lowered its rays in front of the sister Moon and allowed the night to rule. The stars of the sky fell to the earth as the fig tree sheds its winter fruit when shaken by a gale. The sky vanished like a scroll that is being rolled up. Patrick did not like nights, did not like to hide sins, and it was this part of the day that was famous for debauchery and vices.
“Cardinals are adherents of the faith. Believing in the existence of evil, they fused. And all Catholics will soon rally in the face of this threat,” he spoke clearly, was not afraid and approached his angel, who was looking at him in confusion. Patrick looked meekly at her neck and did not find the cross; he pressed his lips together. She said that she would not take it off, that she would wear it in honor of the first scientific case! in honor of… in honor of Him!
“Which is not! That sounds… It sounds like nonsense!” She threw up her hands and her eyebrows jumped. There was a glimmer of hope in eyes; the hope that Patrick would understand and accept everything, confess to the crime, and they would leave. But Patrick was not a fool, he did not listen to his angel and looked at her in incomprehension. He was silent, and his beloved was silent, until he frowned and suddenly broke the silence:
“The one that I gave you,” Patrick confidently approached her until his angel retreated and rested back against a stone wall. She grabbed sleeves, touched them, and looked anywhere but at him. Patrick kept saying something, he couldn’t believe that she, his Maria! — this is how relates to divine things. The cross he gave her was worn by His mother, His holy mother! “You said you’d wear it. Said! As a memory, only for the sake of our successes! Good luck in finding Pope’s killer!”
“Mr. McKenna, Padre,” catching his burning gaze, she stumbled, “Patrick, I’ll wear it tomorrow, you know how I feel about this theory. I promise you, I’ll put it on right before departure…”
Her speeches — and her voice, the owner of which could be either a succubus or an angel, — were interrupted by a crash: Patrick clung tightly to the cross, falling to his knees; the cassock now touched the floor and collected dust, his fingers turned white, and his lips involuntarily and incredibly quickly whispered something — there were prayers, psalms or poems, it is impossible to understand. Patrick was licking his lips, his jaw was shaking, and his eyes were tightly closed. Images of his beloved flashed through his head, His divine image seemed to him; Patrick seemed to be himself, but not in a typical cassock, but in a prayer chiton that his mother knitted for him as a child, and leather sandals.
“O Lord, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up, you discern my thoughts from afar,” the words jumped one after another, got confused. Patrick was breathing loudly, quickly, and shudderingly; his brown hair was disheveled and fell over his face. “I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come. I have been forgotten like one who is dead; I have become like a broken vessel. O God, you know my folly; the wrongs I have done are not hidden from you. Preserve my life, for I am godly; save your servant, who trusts in you — you are my God,” he said everything in different order, madly shaking his head and squeezing his shoulders.
Patrick looked sharply at the frightened lover, looking for a way out of a desperate situation and yes! it was about her that He was talking! «Behold, I send an angel before you to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have prepared», — it was his angel that was being talked about, his Mary, his beloved. She will save him with her love, and he will save her with his faith! Vows and dogmas no longer choked, did not constrict the throat, the garrotte was lowered, and he could breathe calmly. The cardinals were wrong, the interpreters and teachers were wrong, only He knew the truth: Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.
He grabbed her cold hands — the wounds on his palms were treacherously sore, the stigmata inflicted during the night reminded him of themselves; for Patrick carried for bear on body the marks of Jesus — and bowed his head, touching her tender hands with his forehead. But after that, remaining on his knees and soiling his cassock, Patrick looked at her tenderly, with the purest kindness and love. Love is only such as the Lord treats his children with.
“My dear, purest angel, I ask you to understand me, to become a part of me,” Patrick saw his beloved looking around, wants to scream and regrets that does not have a weapon with her. “I am in awe of you, I kneel. My heart flutters at the sight of you. You are my Maria, I promise to help you gain knowledge,” he kissed her hands. “I am His Son, the Son of God, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!”
Belly treacherously ill, burdened the heaviness below. Patrick did not take his eyes off the frightened beloved — what was she afraid of? his words? faith? — but He knew He would help her. She walked in the dark, did not know where to go, wandered in fragments of the past, but He will be able to help her find faith, knowledge and love. And this is love, that walk according to his commandments; this is the commandment, just ashave heard from the beginning, so that should walk in it.
A mad silence, deafening silence enveloped the room. Patrick looked at beloved with fascination, looked into her eyes, but did not find love, humility, only fear in them. She was a sinner, but she will love the Truth, love the Lord, and wash her crimes with tears. Her sins, which are many, are forgiven — for she loved much. But He who is forgiven little, loves little. He felt nose begin to sting and His eyes to water when He recalled her false purpose — in moments of lull in the conversation, His angel loved to joke, to talk about some inconsistencies that she found in the Scriptures. At her conjectures, Patrick only grinned and shook head; how much carelessness there was in her words.
“…It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me,” Patrick broke the silence and kissed His beloved’s hands while she began to mumble incoherently. Her words flew past ears. How delightful and divine she was! could only be compared to His Father! He will not repeat His father’s mistake, because His father is not the Pope, His Father is He, the Lord, because Patrick is the Son of God. So Patrick humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
in fact, i have always been amazed by how people write about patrick here on tumblr, completely missing his character: presenting him either too soft and gentle, or else rewriting the canon where he is innocent. that is what i’m talking about - patrick is crazy, he’s a fanatic, especially if you judge by his motives (what’s in the movie, what’s in the book). so i present my version, i hope you will like it and the character of patrick has remained canonical. (but don’t really like what i’ve written, and i’ll try better next time).
thank for three hundred subscribers!
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