…What? Maybe he had been… that was a strange thought. Linus had loved him in his own way, but to think that someone could ever love him like Tully loved Lewis – it was an absurdity that even Malachi, in all his sensitivity, could not fathom and did not expect.

It was still a sweet thing to say, even if he doubted that he had meant for it to be.

He settled on a quiet, “maybe.”

The reality was that he was a man with vows he’d shed more often than he’d kept. There was no other end to the lonely path.

Malachi took a breath, considered Tully for a moment. No one else might have loved Lewis, but Linus had been loved by more than Malachi. Missed by more when he disappeared, and grieved too when he never returned.

“He’s the reason why I became a priest,” he admitted. “I joined the seminary soon after he died.”

Francis didn't know what went on in Malachi's mind but he figured the man didn't believe him about Linus. Fair, it might not be true. Probably not. But there was no way to be sure now. And it was still possible.

He studied him, as the other's demeanor was far different than when he appeared behind him in the hall. Despite being the same height, the other seemed towering and menacing. Now, he was ...human.

Francis rest his cheek on his hand as he watched him. "Was it out of grief? Or something else? Did you want to share the ability to be patient that he shared with you? So you could try to act as he did and have similar results?" It was unlikely and he meant it in no malicious way. He was , as always, curious.

Again, he faced a question he did not want to answer.

For one fleeting moment Malachi looked perplexed; what he meant and what he said were too far apart to bring together. There had been no inspiration from a lover’s sudden death.

Perhaps his faith would have stood on a stronger foundation if that had been the case.

Uncertain, he shook his head. “No, not quite. It was just… the best path forward.”

It wasn’t even a lie, either, but he wished he had something more hopeful to say. Something about the pull of God, the call to serve and spread the gospel through his grief, but it wouldn’t have been true. And if he told Tully why, he was afraid it would only feed into the strange, dark suspicions people seemed to have of him.

Francis dutifully nodded as he listened. "Sure sure. I was just making random guesses, I didn't know. I'm sure you have your reasons why you do anything." He hummed slightly and stared at the half empty glass before taking another minuscule sip. "Not that you need a reason. Why was I a farmer? Cause my parents were? Why am I doing nothing now? Because I have no options? I'm sure if I could clean myself up and wanted to be really responsible, someone could take pity on me. Or maybe someone would see I'm someone with no options that they could take advantage of. Either way, I could change. But I don't." He smiled slightly. "Tell me something else. Something easier." He could see faint lines of distress on the old man's face starting to form.

I could change. But I don’t.

They were alike in more ways than Tully knew, and far more than Malachi would ever say out loud. Time and experience separated them, opportunities taken kept them farther apart, but he felt he had more in common with the beggar than anyone would reasonably believe.

“Something else,” he pondered over the request. Took another sip from his glass, filled with little more than a few drops left.

The only easy thing to talk about was the bible. He’d spare Tully a lecture. Besides that, there was… oh.

A smile brightened his features, small and soft. Warmer than the one he’d worn before.

“My niece moved to town recently – Nettie. She found a boarding house near here to stay in until she establishes herself. It’s…” it still felt strange to just talk to him, but he kept on, “…it’s always helped me a lot to have her near. She’s… kind. Good. More than the world deserves.”

He glanced up when he said that, realizing suddenly that Nettie was bound to be somebody’s Lewis. The center of their world, their light.

Francis hadn't been looking at him, or anything in particular. He was enjoying the last drops of his glass and then noticed the shift. He looked more at Malachi and rose his brow. The man looked almost happy? Something like pride? He couldn't say for certain but he listened to him speak of his niece and smiled a little.

"Yeah? Sounds like she's settling nicely." He wondered if Whitby would destroy the girl. Woman? He'd heard and seen it hit people differently. But she could be happy if things fell right. "Sounds like she makes you very proud and she cares a lot about you." Why else would someone come to this place? And for him? "If I see her around, I won't bother her." As tempting as it was to try to approach her and ask about this weird uncle. "Do you think she thinks the same thing about you?" He asked curiously. After all, a lot of what people thought was all about perception. He'd never do it, but if she came here for her uncle. She must see some good in him, enough to care and want to support him.

The way the guy spoke of her, he agreed she could be someone's Lewis.

“I’m very proud of her,” the priest was happy to confirm. “Raising her was the best thing that I’ve done.”

And, while he appreciated the sentiment behind Tully’s promise not to bother her, he doubted that it would be a problem. Nettie was fully capable of handling herself and navigating bothersome people, he was sure, and… for all the trouble Tully had caused him, Malachi did not think that he was always so malicious.

Hoped that he wasn’t, at the very least.

“I… don’t doubt that she does,” Malachi said, hesitant, “she has a much better view of me than I probably deserve. And recently, I…”

God, he’d worried her sick. He knew he had. And all for what? Rejection, and all of the awful feelings that came with it?

“I’ve made her worry too much. I suppose I should apologize when I see her next.”

Francis was surprised, honestly. He didn't think this guy had the focus and sincerity to raise a child with any decency. But then he only saw a small part of him, and this seemed to prove that. He started to wonder what she saw in him and what did the detective see in him? He couldn't figure it out but then the priest only in these rare moments showed him a better side.

"Well, she doesn't see into your head. We are usually either our biggest fans or our worst enemies. Sometimes, we flip flop between the two. But you raised her so she knows you better than most. Perhaps she sees something in you that's really there and you should be proud of yourself a little more. After all, she looks up to you, right? And wants to help you. " His head tilted just a little.

"Then apologize. She'll certainly forgive you and you can move on. I would say talk to her about whatever you did to make her worry. You seem to have a habit about not talking about things that are difficult though. Then again, who doesn't?"

Malachi went quiet again as he listened, gaze downward cast. As much as he hated to admit it, Tully was right on this one. He meant it when he said that she viewed him in a far more positive light than what was deserved, but it was also likely true that Nettie truly believed otherwise, and that she was… perhaps not ignorant of his flaws, but understanding of them. Forgiving.

It was more than he could say for himself.

The priest dipped his head in agreement.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

These kinds of conversations were not exactly easy for him, no. He felt the growing urge to return to his room and wait another few days until he felt sensible enough to face the world again, but he couldn’t. There were things to be done, services to be held, a parish to care for.

After quietly clearing his throat, Malachi finished off his wine.

“Thank you, Mr. Tully. For… speaking more with me. I hope you’re aware that you can share your concerns with me as well, when they arise.”

Francis nodded as he listened and could tell the man was about to leave. He was tired of conversing, if the homeless man had to guess. He watched him and smiled a little, though it wasn't as belittling as he had done.

"I can be right sometimes."

He stood to leave since he didn't want to be caught in the kitchen with two empty wine glasses by Richards or Higgins. They'd think he snuck people in again.

"Sure, sure. You can do the same, by the way. Also.. I do mean what I said. Don't let the fact one time didn't work out. You have at least one person who loves you, and there must be a reason for it. I don't like a lot about you, but I don't hate you. I hope you find your Lewis, since it seems that's something you're searching for. Just.." He shrugged. "It's easier said than done but.. don't let the bad things in life keep pushing you down. It can be crushing." He smiled and put his hands behind his back, mimicking the priest to walk out behind him.