“Hodie scietis, quia veniet Dominus, et salvabit nos, et mane videbitis gloriam eius.”
Today, you know that the Lord will come, and He will save us, and in the morning you will see His glory.
On one hand, Beth thinks that’s grossly unfair to Matt who has just finally joined her. Fortunately she’s sitting in a space at the back of the church, having given up her seat in the front to an elderly pair of ladies when she realised her friend was going to be late. His suit is rumpled in places, it’s hastily tucked in, and she can practically smell the bruises he covered with it. It breaks her heart that even on Christmas Eve, he can’t catch a break. That there are people willing to do evil and violence even on the celebration of the birth of the Prince of Peace. She can’t make herself angry with him for being late, for being hurt.
She waits until he’s seated himself beside her on the pew before taking his hand. Beth doesn’t presume Matt needs the help unless he asks for it, or at least his body language gives it away. To anyone else it might seem cruel, but they don’t know him quite the way she does. Her fingers intertwine with his and she gives it a small squeeze. She knows if she stays close to him for the rest of Mass, her mana will eventually find its way around him. It will dull the worst of his aches and pains, seeking to undo some of the damage he’s done.
The entire congregation raises their voices.
“.....Gloria in excelsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis….”
She leans in toward his shoulder, whispering gently to not interrupt the people in front of them, but mostly not to give away any of his secrets. “Thought I was gonna hafta send out search an’ rescue into local bars. Or a’least text Foggy an’ yell a’ him in all caps.”
He breathes something that sounds like a laugh, but it feels more like a groan. She almost wishes that his devout nature would have allowed him to go home. Use speech-to-text to give her a heads up, and she’d have come over. Maybe even wait til morning, bring him the gifts she’s got wrapped for him under her tree, and breakfast too. She might still do that, but what she is absolutely going to do is drive him home and see him up to his apartment before heading over the bridge to hers. Unless he invites her otherwise. And maybe he can feel her cheeks grow pink at the impropriety of that sort of thought here of all places.
“For wha’ its wort’ Matt’ew, I’m glad you’re heah. I really was worried.” This isn’t a lie, even if her heart picks up its pace. It’s dangerously close to other feelings, softer ones she’s not sure she’s comfortable with, or that he is, either.
Still, she’s not yet let go of his hand when they rise at the Father’s bidding.