Chapter Text
December 23
Father Jud Duplenticy was never proud to admit it, but Christmas Eve masses were his favorite. He knew they weren’t supposed to be. The more discerning priest would boast of how much he loved Easter mass and preaching the joy of Jesus’ return from the dead. Jud always considered arguing that none of that could’ve happened if Jesus hadn’t been born and that maybe the true miracle was that he was even sent to humanity in the first place. Instead, he opted to keep his philosophical musings to himself.
He certainly loved the miracle of the resurrection (although the holiday was unfortunately tainted by the events of his last Holy Week), but the Christmas season held something different. For one, they were the most attended masses of the year. It was an opportunity to show the wider community that the doors were open for anybody who needed it. The hard work he put into completely changing Our Lady of Perpetual Grace was beginning to pay off. He started an actual choir that wasn’t just Martha on the organ (before he took over, nobody even sang the hymns). He started his own food bank, which was consistently draining and refilling thanks to the kindness of the community. He started a youth group that kids actually enjoyed going to. If it wasn’t a deadly sin, he would allow himself the pride of his accomplishments. In reality, it was the least he could do to reverse the damage that Monsignor Wicks had done to such a beautiful place. It was his duty to make it a loving House of God again and his work was far from finished.
The holiday season was harder on him than he anticipated. He was hard at work organizing a free dinner on Christmas Day for those who needed it. He did as much community outreach as he could and found that, when he approached with just a bit of kindness, kindness would be returned back. Contrarily, he also had to deal with Wicks’ truthers more often than he would’ve liked. Even still, most people were just relieved the Monsignor was gone. Dealing with the repercussions of four community members’ brutal passings was something that no amount of seminary could have ever prepared him for.
Needless to say, he ended his days on aching feet with deep bags under his eyes.
And lately, when his head hit the pillow, the nightmares crept back into his evenings.
They were at their worst for at least a month after Martha’s death. They eventually settled down to only a few times a week, then only a few times a month. Now, they were back to make a streak. Prayer was always a good remedy. The warm presence in his chest after every sign of the cross guaranteed no nightmares for the rest of the evening. It also meant that he buried himself in work or prayer into the late hours of the night until he couldn’t fight sleep anymore. But he couldn’t stop now, not when his community needed him.
So, he let the bags under his eyes grow and let the parishioners ask if he was okay. And, cursed with an inability to lie, he told them he was tired out by long days but that he was happy to serve his community (he didn’t consider the omission of how burnt out he really was a lie, it was merely not saying the dishonest part out loud and keeping the rest between him and God).
Another interesting side effect came from sleepless nights and long hard days of work– he found himself falling asleep at night with a certain detective on his mind. He didn’t know exactly when it started, but Blanc seemed to creep into his mind in little reminders throughout the day. And, in his more desperate moments, his heart ached for him to be back there in Chimney Rock. Blanc kept contact with Jud, “just in case,” he claimed. They’d wrapped up their official business months ago so there was no practical reason for Jud to have Blanc’s phone number. Still, they found themselves texting semi-regularly, though Blanc wasn’t the most consistent communicator due to the nature of his job. He seemed to be just as sleepless some nights and was good company when Jud was trying to avoid sleep. Every once in a while, they’d even talk on the phone. When Blanc was deeply immersed in a case, Jud wouldn’t hear from him in days or even weeks. The phone calls after those long weeks were particularly lengthy, and Jud always asked for names of victims and people involved just so he could include them in his prayers. If there was a way to support the family’s cause financially, he was quick to send in a donation. Jud wouldn’t say it to anyone but the Lord, but it was his favorite part of the week when he got to talk to Blanc. He was honored that he took time out of his day to talk to him anyways.
Which, in turn, presented a new predicament— the feelings that bubbled in his chest at the thought of Blanc. He hadn't felt anything like that in a long time. Sure, he had plenty of fruitless hookups in his boxing days hoping for even a fraction of the fulfillment he had now. But this wasn’t just lust, it was something far deeper and more terrifying. He prayed about it almost every night. He liked to think himself an intelligent man, especially emotionally, but this was entirely new to him. He’d heard of priests struggling with romantic attractions and lustful desires. He thought that was one of the easier temptations to ignore. But Blanc’s natural southern charm and his witty remarks struck his unruly heart. He liked hearing Blanc’s perspective, he could listen to him talk for hours. He wasn't as offended as he should’ve been when Blanc blasphemed against the Lord. He was a man with deeply rooted purpose. In the weak moments when he allowed himself the vulgarity, he would even admit that it was hot.
Even still, it didn’t matter. Strange feelings for a detective he technically only met in person once couldn’t cloud his mind, there was far too much to do.
So, it did.
It left his mind the second he opened the church doors for the evening mass. People began to trickle in, smiles adorned their faces as they shook hands with the kindly priest. He had regulars that always got there the second the doors opened and others who barely made it before the first reading. One by one, he shook hands with every person he could. He asked Shaina how her mother was, asked Alex how the school play was going, told Keith he would pray for his son’s surgery. He did exactly what he was born to do…
Exactly what he was able to do because of Benoit Blanc.
He shook the thought out of his head as he greeted the next guest. People shuffled into their pews and settled in. Some kneeled and bowed their heads in prayer while others tried to wrangle their rowdy kids who just couldn’t seem to sit still but would be fast asleep in their dad’s arms by the homily (parents would sometimes apologize to Jud after the service. He assured them that the angels held them gently through their nap). He closed the doors and prayed over the altar servers before proceeding down the aisle, cross in hand.
The service was entirely ordinary, though that never meant monotonous for Jud. Every mass was just as meaningful as the last, even if it was his job and it did get repetitive. He always told himself that this could be someone’s first service. He had to make every one count.
The mass marched along in a familiar rhythm. He found his legs pushing him out of his chair as he carried his book of gospels behind the altar table and laid it down. He never used the pulpit in his services anymore. He didn’t like the power imbalance it created. He hated watching the Monsignor scream from high on his tyrannical throne. He hated that everyone had to look up to see him as if he was their god. He much preferred slowly pacing across the foot of the altar, close to the people. He was one with the congregation, not in any way above or below any of them.
He began to read, the words dripping from his lips so naturally, like they were born to be there. There was a passion, an understanding behind every word. It was like performing a sonnet.
Every inflection so effortlessly interpreted the ancient text, translated hundreds of times just to land on this page in this moment through his tongue. Not a king giving a speech, nor a puppeteer controlling a puppet. This was the sacred parceling of knowledge, a teacher to a student, an actor to an audience. This was what it was about. Enlightenment on a purely personal level.
“…the gospel of the Lord,”
“Praise to you lord Jesus Christ,” the congregation echoed in unison, the sound reverberating off the marble walls. The collective shuffling of people sitting back down filled the air.
The sound of a door clicking open cut through the room like a knife.
Jud’s breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of who was strolling so casually into his church. He cleared his throat in an attempt to cover his shock, making his way around the table to the front of the altar.
All the while, Benoit Blanc slipped quietly into the back pew, adorned in one of his usual perfectly pressed tailored suits. This one was a deep shade of green that reminded Jud of the surrounding forests he walked by every day. His hair was just a little bit longer than it was last time. He slipped a pair of sunglasses off his nose and folded them elegantly before slipping them in his pocket. Every movement he made felt so methodical, maybe it was. His head tilted slightly in waiting. Even from the front, Jud could sense the constant itch for something to solve. Those eyes never stopped searching for something. He pretended not to notice any of it.
Jud paused for a moment, the gears in his head turning. He knew he was looking to the back pew for far too long, he knew he had to say something soon. He did what he could only bring himself to regret later— he went completely off script.
“‘In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.’ Job chapter 12, verse 10. The breath of all mankind. Breath is such a subconscious thing. We take at least twenty thousand of them every day. We take advantage of it when we have it, we don't think about it. But eventually, we all will be without it. Our bodies will be of the Earth and will have no need for it. I’d like to think that someone’s final breath is reborn as someone else’s first breath, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Our bodies function for as long as they need to, for as long as God plans for all of our journeys. We carry an incredible vessel that is capable of so much. It is a gift to be exactly what we are. To feel, to learn, to understand, to desire…” his eyes drifted over to Blanc for a moment before he willed himself back on track. “To breathe. God has gifted us with bodies of such complex versatility, proof of his incomprehensible planning. How did he wire the human body, the Earth, the ecosystems to coexist in such a delicate balance that could so easily tumble? How could mere chance manifest every small detail that guarantees the sustainability of life itself? How can you not see God in everything? In the trees, in the deer that prance past the garden gates? God is in the science that explains the mysteries of the universe. God is in the grass you crush beneath your foot and the roof above your head. God is in the last breath you will ever take. He orchestrated the beginning and the end of a life so methodically and left us to attempt to make sense of it. When I look between the facts of life, I just see God,” Jud dared to steal a glance at Blanc. He searched for any sort of reaction, any physical response to a single word he said. But there was nothing. He remained calmly neutral, unaffected by the words spoken to the crowd. Only a mere tilt of his head, impossible to decipher.
There was an itch of irritation deep in him, paired with a strange sort of thrill.
Instead of dwelling on it for too long, he continued speaking. He spoke until there was nothing left to say, and it was his time to sit down. He didn’t look at Blanc for the rest of the mass. As the closing hymns rang throughout the church in a joyful tune emphasized with a tambourine, Father Jud slowly made his way back down the aisle. He couldn’t resist darting his eyes from the hymnal in his hand to the man in the final pew. The older man’s striking icicle eyes studied him, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a small grin. Jud couldn’t help but grin back before turning his attention back to the hymnal.
Like clockwork, he shook the hands of as many people as he could as they left to continue on with the rest of their day. He tried to ignore the chill of the open doorway because he’d be damned if he let the elements win over his hospitality. It wasn’t until the final parishioner walked away that he heard the click of heeled boots grow closer.
He finally brought himself to look up.
“I must say, that was… quite boring,” Blanc remarked bluntly.
“How are you, detective?” Jud asked, ignoring his first remark.
“Oh, nothin’ much new, I suppose. I’ll be honest these recent cases have been quite boring as well, it’s all just crimes of passion and egregiously simple murders that they didn’t need me to solve. I haven’t had something interesting since, well…” he trailed off, vaguely motioning to the inside of the church.
“May their souls rest well and find peace in Christ,”
“Is that a prayer or are you just trying to spite me?”
“I don’t spite, detective. More of a blessing for the repose of the souls lost,” Jud’s eyes subconsciously drifted in the direction of Sam's old house.
“No, I think it was spite. Much like that homily of yours,” It took everything in Jud not to smile, because this was the game Blanc wanted to play. Jud had crafted it just for him, just for his entertainment.
“That certainly wasn’t spite. It was just plain old wisdom,” Jud shrugged.
“I don’t know, it felt rather… pointed,” Blanc said, passively surveying the architecture of the building.
“I had a congregation to preach to, I was merely giving them perspective on the Word,”
“Perspective on a verse you didn’t even read in the gospel, and I would guess wasn’t in either of the readings based on the fact that you specified exactly which book, chapter, and verse. You are a well rehearsed man, Father, every priest must be. Every homily is prewritten, prerehearsed to preach the glory of the lord. But you paused. And you gave what I infer to be an improvised homily, an irresponsible deviation from a carefully crafted plan to a more cynical rant about breath and god being in science. There would be no reason to deviate from that kind of routine unless there was a break in it. And what was the only break in that routine? Me,” Blanc deduced with a smirk on his face. Jud nodded, letting the detective think he’d won.
“So, here’s my running theory, and you can tell me I’m right after this. You gave that little homily just for me, just to prove to me that God is behind everything,” Everything about it made his stomach flip. It sent a thrill through his body, a thrill he hadn’t felt since the adrenaline spiked days of boxing. This game they played was not one of destruction and degradation, but one of level playing ground. It was a friendly competition that satisfied the itch of challenge with no damage. No one had made him feel like that in a very long time.
“You’re wrong,” Jud challenged. He knew he shouldn’t be, he knew that playing into this was wrong, and maybe that made it a sin. But it was just too fun to stop.
“Am I?” Blanc cocked an eyebrow, though confused by the denial. Jud knew he was used to being right, and there was just something about telling him he was wrong that just scratched an itch.
“You should know me better than that. I will never preach conversion just because a nonbeliever enters my church. I just preach what I believe to be true. I wouldn’t dream of telling Benoit Blanc to turn to God because I believe He is in science,” Jud said with a satisfied smile.
“Then why?” Blanc asked, not to prove a point or to expose a rot, but in a genuine pursuit of knowledge.
“Maybe I just wanted to preach the good word… and give you something meaningless to solve,”
Blanc shot out a breath of disbelief, searching Jud’s eyes. They were always pointed and searching, it made him want to shrink into himself. But he couldn’t deny himself the satisfaction of besting the best detective in the world.
“Would you like a drink?” Jud offered as he began walking towards the rectory. He didn’t need to look back to know that Blanc was following him.
A blast of warmth hit him the second he opened the door, finally relieved of the biting December New York air. He quickly removed his chasuble, hanging it reverently. Similarly, the detective shed his coat, tossing it onto the coat rack.
“Shoes on, or…?”
“Whatever is most comfortable for you,” Jud assured, making his way to the drink table to pour each of them a small glass of whiskey.
“So, detective, what can I do for you?” Jud asked.
“Hm?” Blanc hummed as he made himself comfortable on the couch.
“Why are you here? You must need something from me. Is it regarding the case?”
“No, no, nothin’ like that. I just, uh, wrapped up a case in Manhattan regarding a man who used vampire fangs to… anywho, it doesn’t matter, I just thought I’d stop by and see how things were truckin’ along,” Blanc explained.
“That’s pretty far upstate,” Jud pointed out.
“Well, yes, but I-”
“And you know how we’re doing, I give you updates every week,” Jud smirked, putting the pieces together.
“It’s nice to see it with my own eyes-“
“And you sat through half a Mass when I distinctly remember you once telling me ‘there’s nothing I’d rather not do.’ So, here’s my running theory. You came here because you wanted to visit me,” Jud definitively concluded, holding out the glass for him to take. The older man huffed out an amused breath and took a sip.
“Not bad, father,” Blanc nodded, crossing his legs. It was unclear whether it was in response to the drink or Jud’s deduction. “I could always leave, you know-”
“No,” Jud interrupted, almost too quickly. He cleared his throat. “I mean, you don’t have to go, if you don’t want to. You’re always welcome,” Jud sat in the chair across from the smirking man. “I must admit, you came at a rather hectic time. Christmas is my busiest time of year, no matter what parish I’m a part of. And it’s my first one at Our Lady, so I have to make it count. So I’ve been… preoccupied, as of late,”
“Maybe I could help,” Blanc offered casually.
“Blanc, I couldn’t ask you to do that-“ Jud blinked in surprise.
“Good thing you’re not askin’. I’m offerin’,”
“I guess, but I’m sure you have much better things to do for the next few days, detective work or holiday celebrations or something?”
“I’m sure you’re right, there’s probably plenty I could be doing. But my roommate, he thinks I’ve taken too many back to back cases and that I need a break. I’ll go stir crazy at my place, so I thought why not pay a visit to an old friend,” Blanc held up his drink and took a sip
Jud found himself stunned silent. He couldn’t quite grapple with the facts— Benoit Blanc drove all the way upstate for no other personal benefit besides wanting to see him, and wanting to help him, no less. He sat through a partial Mass, which probably bored him to tears. He wanted to be there, for no other reason than to see the reformed priest. His chest was warmer than it had any right to be.
“Do you have a hotel?” was the only thing Jud could think to say next.
“Well, I figured I would work that out once I got here-”
“Blanc! It’s Christmas, all of the hotels in town are practically full, it’s gonna cost way too much money,” It amazed Jud how a man so intelligent could be so stupid sometimes. “Just stay here,” he said faster than he could catch himself. “I’ve got an extra room open. It’s the biggest in the house, should be comfortable,”
“So long as it’s not too much of a bother,”
“Of course not,” Jud assured. “How long will you be staying?”
“As long as you’ll have me,”
“I’ll have you as long as you need,” he said far too earnestly.
“Thank you kindly, father,” Blanc gave that same polite smile, the one that made Jud’s heart race just a little bit faster.
“How was your last case? I didn’t hear from you much this week,”
“My god, Father Jud, oh- pardon my language- but it was maybe the most irritatin’ case I’ve solved in recent memory…”