The feeling never left you alone, even in the hospital. The feeling of being evil. The Stigmata.

Father Way found himself seeking you out. The marks on your skin, that tattoo you had gotten by a religious wannabe serial killer that ended with you both getting kidnapped and almost murdered - that one kiss on the bed after your first and only exorcism that was a mistake. He was the only one who made the physical pain go away. He was the only one who, when touching you, you were healed immediately; open wounds closing into scars.

You two had gotten close. He knew things about you that you had never shared with anyone, how you had scars hidden that were a punishment to yourself for what your father and stepfather did to you. For not being strong enough to stop any of it. And you knew him for who he was. The savior, the kind one. The peacekeeper.

But he was far from any altar boy or priest. He smoked, swore like a sailor, and listened to heavy metal and 80s hair bands. Afraid of needles, but willing to hold you down as you convulsed, trying to get that awful tattoo covered before all that shit went down.

Gerard still thought about that kiss, how he had kissed you back, and you had immediately apologized for half breaking his vow of celibacy, and you both swore never to talk about it again. But oh, how he loved you for that impulsive move. For the anomaly you were. For letting him in and pushing him away, and letting him in again. He loved you, he realized.

So much had happened that made it so apparent that you two were meant to be together.

Three months had passed since the kidnapping, your exorcism and tattoo removal, and him healing your stigmata during every painful episode where they would appear, and you would nearly bleed out. Three months since his job had called him away back to Maryland for an investigation of more religious phenomena. His brother Mikey kept him updated secretly on how you were doing, and you weren't doing great. Maybe it was the kiss. Maybe it was almost dying multiple times. Maybe it was reverting back to Catholicism because of Gerard, but you weren't doing great. Luckily, Gerard had decided that his specific line of work in the church wasn't the way he wanted to live life. He wanted to help people, not stare at a burnt piece of toast in Maine that vaguely resembled the Virgin Mary. He wanted to help you. And being celibate wasn't helping his case in the slightest. So, he quit his investigation job and decided to move back to New Jersey with you and his little brother, figuring he would find a good job there.

It was a Saturday night, around 1:00 AM. There was a knock on your door. Gerard was standing there awkwardly, in that same black coat and striped scarf. "Hey..." He said softly, hands shoved into his pockets as he glanced from the ground towards you.