Heaven's gate

Fin stared at his reflection carefully in the eyes, now a foreign auburn hue thanks to colored contacts, as he adjusted the wig around his neck and head. RJ had painted his fingernails a simple matte black, and he caught himself staring at them remembering that it was hardly the first time she'd done so. He had simply never done it for himself; she seemed to take pleasure from dressing him in assorted styles from a young age. She had never gone this far, however, and he did not recognize himself in the mirror. The deep brown hair framed his face in an unfamiliar way and the bangs tickled his forehead. "I need a hat," he decided firmly.

"Want mine?" Ben offered his off his own head, when RJ slapped his hands away from his ears suddenly and pulled one out of her bag - black and knitted, it fit Finley's head like it was created just for that task and he couldn't deny that he felt better for some inexplicable reason when he looked back into his reflection. He made a satisfied grunt.

"I don't like bangs," Finley decided as he brushed the dark swath of hair out of his eye. "They're itchy. Where are the fucking scissors?" He wondered, looking around them for the shears that his sister had used to cut the fake hair's bangs.

"Leave it," his sister instructed and brushed it back with a ringed, tattooed finger. "They're cute, and this and the brown contacts should help keep them from recognizing you, but your attitude might be a dead giveaway, smart-ass."

"Like my voice won't be?" he scoffed. He wasn't exactly baritone, but he felt he didn't sound remotely like the girl he was dressed as. 

"Get over it or I'll kick you in the balls until you sound like me, how does that sound?" his sister threatened with a grin.

"I'll just keep quiet and do my thing, then," he conceded, raising his hands up into the air.

"Fuck right you will," she agreed and stood across from him, next to the mirror and started to adjust his hair and clothes until she liked what she saw. She stood next to him and looked into the reflection, and he couldn't deny their similarities. They might have been sisters in another life.

"Look," she told him through his reflection, and got serious for a moment. He remembered then that she was perfectly sober, for the first time in a while since he'd seen her. "Homeless queer kids flock to places like this. You'll just be another one trying to fit in somewhere when home isn't a place you can go back to. Isn't that what you and I really are, anyway? There's no home left for us. They killed Mom. They killed Mara. They're after our bloodline. You're still you, Finley. You're just wearing different clothes now, and frankly, you look good in them. It's okay to own that."

"Yeah, I don't recognize you at all," Ben added encouragingly to the end of that, with a double thumbs up.

"Coffee-boy, on the other hand," RJ turned to him with displeasure, "you are utterly hopeless."

"Thanks," said Ben as if he were unsure of the word.

"I can help with that part," Finley assured her, thinking of his years of experience in school learning the hard way how to escape notice. "But it's less stressful if I don't have to also cover for myself, so this works," he realized as he said it, and looked down at the skirt and leggings that had replaced his pants. He picked up his rust-orange scarf, knitted by Aidan's mother as a gift a few years ago, and wrapped it around his neck. He felt less vulnerable with the prominent cartilage of his neck exposed. He could not deny at that point that he may as well be a completely different girl that he had never met before.

"Lucky you and I both have small feet, so my boots should fit you," RJ added, and pulled over a pair of ankle-boots out of her bag. Luckily, the heels were small and square and not hard to balance on, but they did pinch Fin in the toes a bit when he put them on. In the tall mirror of her upstairs bedroom in their rental, Fin examined his reflection anew when the boots changed the shape of his legs unexpectedly.

His sister wiggled her feet in her black platforms and grinned at him, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. He put it out of his mind and focused on the task in front of him that he most dreaded - going back to the church. "Don't worry Benji, I found a wig for you too," Jeri told the worried-looking Benedict who was hovering close by.

"Don't tell me you thought of this beforehand," Fin had to ask.

"No, idiot," she shot back at him, "there's drag queens aplenty in Toronto, which you'd know if you'd ever visited anything that wasn't the university district. And I have toured here, you know."

"Oh? Is that why they call it the Queen's City?" Finley couldn't help but ask, which made her burst out into surprised laughter.

"I thought that was because of Queen Victoria," Benedict added with a frown.

"Really?" This only made RJ laugh harder. 

Finley snorted back his own laughter, then brought them back to the point. "Alright, slap some hair on the guy and let's get out of here. You'll stay with Aidan, though, yeah?"

"Someone's gotta hold down the fort, and that fort is Aidan," RJ agreed and nodded with certainty.

"I'm trusting you with his life right now," he reminded her with some discomfort at the idea coming across in his tone.

"And I'm trusting you not to be a total fuck up, Finley. We all have to do hard things," she deferred unsympathetically and stepped around him toward her bag on the floor, rifling through it until she came up with the right colored black wig for Ben that more or less mimicked his natural hair.

After about a half hour of trimming with her shears, Ben now had a reflection that he and RJ both felt satisfied with. Finley knew and was prepared to manipulate anyone that they had to in order to make sure they got out unscathed, but even his anxious soul was a little bit soothed by the fact that Benedict was barely recognizable without his shaven head and beanie. He looked even younger than he was before, giving more credence to their identities as teenage runaways looking for help.

Finley was surprised at how little convincing on RJ's part it had seemed to take to get Benedict to agree to such a tactic. Finley was prepared to go it alone just as he had before with the FBI, but he felt relieved at not having to watch his back even if it meant he had one more person to keep track of. He was more worried about leaving his sister and Aidan without help in the hospital but knew that she could protect herself and Aidan if she absolutely had to - and he had to believe that she would rather do so than abandon Aidan, or he would not leave at all.

It had to be done. Somewhere in that building, he had sensed the thoughts of more than a few people in deep, dark, and desperate distress. Upon reflection he had decided that these were not the thoughts of mere runaways, or those suffering mental illness, or even people seeking shelter. He had run into many such people over the years on the streets. This was something else entirely. Something terrible, or so he feared. He hadn't voiced all these thoughts to the others, not wanting to leap to conclusions without solid evidence, but they were nonetheless present in his mind.

Shortly after Ben was fitted with a wig and found a hoodie of Finley's that he liked from amongst their collection, Finley climbed into a taxi behind his sister and Ben stepped in behind him, as the three of them squashed together in the back seat tightly. RJ didn't seem to mind on Fin's side and gave him an encouraging pat on the leg. "You'll be fine, brother mine," she whispered.

RJ was dropped off at the hospital first by their driver, and it wasn't until he saw her within the doors and speaking to staff that Finley instructed the driver to take them to a location near the church's address. He and Ben spoke nothing during the drive and engaged in tense silence until they were dropped off a block away from the First Advent Church of Christ.

Rather than say anything, Finley felt it more appropriate to simply jerk his head in the right direction to indicate that Benedict should follow him and lead the way to the now-familiar brown, squat-seeming building.

"This place gives me the heebie-jeebies," Ben confessed, pulling up his hoodie around his ears as they approached the massive outdoor crucifix that loomed before them.

"Crosses creep me out too," Finley confided, though he suspected this was for different reasons than Benedict's. "Comes from being told at a very young and impressionable age that they're devices designed to torture people to death. Thanks for going along with all our crazy bullshit, by the way," he added in an afterthought. It was very generous of Ben to simply take everything in stride and not question them too much about their intentions.

"I don't think it's crazy bullshit," Ben clarified, and ceased in his stride to get Fin's attention. 

Finley stopped and brushed his new bangs out of his eyes to look at him. "What would you call it, then?" He wondered.

"Something we should probably contact the authorities about after this," Benedict answered easily. "People need to know what's going on. But, we don't even know what's going on yet." A thought from Ben's mind floated over to him: What if we get hurt? Who would know?

Fin didn't have the energy to correct him on this assumption so he just shrugged and kept walking. It was all he could do. He would do his best to assure that Ben didn't come to any harm, but the possibility was real. However, Finley knew he had to do something in order to stop these attempted kidnappings and attacks. If he did nothing, or got the police and government involved, things would only escalate. He might disappear into a camp and never be seen again if it got out what his - or God forbid, his sister's - abilities were. Supernaturally classified citizens only existed officially on record and were tools of the United States government who was free to use them as they saw fit. Unofficially, people like Finley could slip under the radar and live normal lives, provided they didn't attract too much notice from the wrong sort. He had left too many dead and injured bodies in his wake and had lost count of them all. Someone was bound to notice eventually, and he had been trying not to think about it.

Finley didn't want to get Benedict involved in his crazy bullshit at all, but he knew now that there was no going back. If his sister was correct, and he did believe her (this time), then Benedict was the key to everything that was going to unfold. Whatever-the-fuck that is, but please let it not be the end of the world, Finley thought. Fin pulled his hat down around his head a little tighter as he lead the way toward the front doors, feeling a pulling at his feet in the opposite direction that demanded he run away from the church fast and never look back. He wondered if Ben felt the same thing.

Deterred yet undaunted, he walked up to the double-door entrance, grasped one of the handles, and started to open it as Aidan had done for him before. The thought of his boyfriend and best friend in the hospital steeled his nerves.

"Wait!" Ben drew him back by the hand just as they were about to step in and whispered, "What do I call you?"

Finley blinked and suddenly felt the sharp sting of fear that Benedict was feeling, mingled with a strange deep desire to know what this was all about that was running through Benedict, almost possessing him. Fin withdrew his hand as politely as he could from Ben's grip without outright snatching it back, and settling on the first name that came to mind he uttered: "Sasha." It rolled out of his mouth so easily it surprised Finley and fit him just like the hat on his head. "What's yours?" He asked.

"Oh, you think they'll know mine too?" He blinked in surprise.

Fin had to suppress the urge to slap his own face and laugh when he recalled that he had been the one to introduce himself to the Pastor. However, if he was anything like Ramiel . . . "I'll just call you Charlie," Finley decided for him.

Ben shrugged. "Fair enough."

Fin turned back around and pulled on the door with a black-nailed hand. Stepping inside the lion's den with Ben close behind him, he felt his heart sinking as the familiar taupe walls closed around them, blocking out the crisp November air. Despite despising the cold, Finley found himself suddenly yearning for it as a cacophony of indecipherable mental noise washed over him. He put his walls up firmly the way he'd practiced for years now, the way Teegan and Aidan had helped him devise, and missed them both suddenly quite fiercely. Even having his sister by his side would have been better than Ben, whom he had to worry about and protect more than rely on. Why his sister had insisted on Ben accompanying him, he didn't know, but had to guess she had her strange reasons.

Paintings of a pale, false Jesus amid various New Testament scenes lined the walls on the way to the main entrance of the church's main hall, where one of the double doors was propped open and light poured from it into the atrium. Voices and laughter came from the inside, and Finley felt himself tense as he remembered he had to play the part of a homeless girl.

"I know you're scared," he whispered to Ben quickly, figuring he should try to do something reassuring before things went completely awry, "and it's okay to be scared. But I'm here. I will get us out of here if anything happens. Trust me." He found himself repeating his words. 

Ben nodded, and it seemed to work. "I believe you," he said. Finley suddenly felt that having Benedict's trust was a powerful thing that he had been privileged with. 

I hope I prove worthy of it, he thought somewhat bitterly, and felt slightly resentful with his sister for roping him into this with her powers of guilt. There was nothing he would not do if she asked it of him, after the state hospital.

When Olivia was amongst those in the hall and broke away from her group of church members - and Finley suddenly remembered this was a Sunday - she walked over to him and Ben. Ben assumed a friendly posture but Finley did not move for fear of recognition. He did a surface scan of her thoughts - and it occurred to him then that this was the ultimate test of his abilities, which he had never fully explored nor known the limits of - and he found himself in her eyes, unrecognizable beneath his wig and contacts. Another one? Their parents left them out to dry, and I wonder why. Give me a break, Olivia thought, oblivious that Finley could understand her nonverbal communications. Olivia had no way of knowing it, but he was privy to her nature as her thoughts went on - and though he had not initially pegged her as a bigot, it became clearer as the moment dragged on while she puzzled out what to say that she was indeed one. The world is in chaos and boys are dressing up like girls, thinking it makes them women, she thought, even as she plastered a smile on her face and said, "Welcome to First Advent." It was clear she didn't like him, and what infuriated Finley about it was that it was not because she recognized Finley but judged him for being presumably transgender.

He felt strangely tongue-tied in front of Olivia. Fin wanted to say something that he'd probably later regret, but Ben's babble naturally kicked in and he spoke for them both, "Uh, I'm Charlie. This is Sasha. We're here, because, well," and Finley cut him off for his own good.

"We heard we could get shelter here for the night," Fin cut in, disguising his voice only a little and altering his accent to sound more like Benedict's. It wouldn't do for another southern American to show up so suddenly, and it would stick out in Olivia's memory as unusual. The less they stuck out, the better off they'd be.

"Sasha," Olivia repeated, and extended her hand after a moment. Finley shook it begrudgingly and felt a flash of Olivia's disgust with him at her touch. It revolted Finley, who withdrew his hand as quickly as he politely could. "Charlie," she extended her hand to Ben, and he shook it vigorously. It was all Finley could do not to glare at her. They really ought to have camps for people like this, Olivia thought when she looked at Finley, and a series of extremely troubling mental images flashed by that Finley eventually just blocked out. He didn't need to know the depths of her hatred, or her faith. She wore it on her sleeve.

"This way please," Olivia directed and led them to a side-door off the main hall, which led to a wrap-around hallway. "I'm the volunteer coordinator here, so I'll send you Demetrius' way and he can get you situated. He's our volunteer in charge of our dormitory."

She led them down another hall and to a second set of double doors that led further into the building. A young man with deep umber skin was inside who lit up at the sight of the three of them and seemed much happier than Olivia to greet them, and more sincere in his manner. Moreover, he cared, and Finley almost felt bad that this man was involved with the First Advent Church of Christ. It was clear he was only a few years older than Finley and extremely earnest in manner; Fin felt he didn't deserve to be caught up in such a shady organization. 

"This is Demetrius, D, this is Sasha, and Charlie. They're new admits," Olivia quickly explained and introduced.

"Thanks Liv, I'll take them from here," Demetrius said with a wide, white smile and gestured them both forward to follow him. Even his voice was rich and warm compared to Olivia's sharp tones. Fin turned and watched Olivia leave, just as she shot him a cold stare. He wondered if the other volunteers had any idea what she was really like, or if that was perhaps the exact reason Pastor Malcolm kept her at his side. Poor kids, Demetrius was thinking of them. Can't be older than my sister was. Looks like her, too. Demetrius internally compared his mental image of Finley - vastly different from Finley's image of himself, naturally - with the memory of his deceased sibling, and a flash of grief ran through him so strong that Finley had to withdraw mentally in order to avoid triggering his own. Fin took a deep breath and a mental step backward from Demetrius and grabbed Ben's hand in his own to keep him grounded. Ben was nervous, but preferable, and didn't mind the hand-hold even if his hands were sweating.

Benedict was oblivious and thought it was part of the act, so he tolerated the touch despite it being a surprise and first time. Finley kept his hand loosely gripped - a little touch was all he needed to get a sense of someone's internal monologue and feelings, and eye contact made it worse. He avoided eye contact with Demetrius as the man asked, "Are you two . . . ?"

"We're friends," Finley confirmed, not willing to act out the part of a relationship with poor, unassuming Ben. "It's just - she makes me nervous. What is this place?"

"What have you heard about us?" Demetrius asked instead, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, as if he were prepared to confront something.

"Not a lot," Ben answered for them both, "just that word was you had something to eat and a place to sleep," and Finley squeezed his hand in gratitude.

"Oh," Demetrius made a noise that made him seem almost disappointed. "Well, that's true enough," he conceded. "Come with me, I'll get you situated and introduced to your roommate. You'll have to share, but you'll be warm. We've got plenty of room."

"This is a church?" Finley pressed, still holding Ben's hand in his own as Demetrius led them through a door and down a wide, beige, unadorned hallway full of closed doors.

Demetrius looked back at him with an easy smile. He explained as he led them on, "In a way. The Pastor likes to talk about Jesus' adventures in the ancient world, but he won't shove it down your throat or force you to attend his sermons. There's a place for you here with a warm bed and free meals twice a day if you need it, as long as you two obey the rules."

Fin tried not to sound too intrigued when he asked, "What rules?"

"There's a few, but I've shortened them into two big ones," Demetrius offered as he stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. "First one," he held up a pointer finger, "no drugs or substance use of any kind. I know that's the hardest one for some, but we're happy to ferry you to one of the clinics if you need."

"That won't be a problem," Fin promised. "What's the second?"

"Second," Demetrius ticked off his second finger, "be kind. If you have a problem with anyone, bring it up to me, and we'll talk it out together with that person. Wash your own dishes. Et cetera. I'm not here on weekends, but Samantha is, and I'll introduce you to her. Got it?"

Fin looked at Ben and they nodded together.

Demetrius smiled again and opened the door for them. There was a large dorm-room with two sets of bunk-beds, and one of them was occupied by a person reading a manga. Fin couldn't read the title of the comic from the distance he was at, but he could sense the thoughts of the person in the bunk and identified them as a fairly average teenage boy engrossed by the shoujo story he found therein.

"Jack," Demetrius called out, and the pale teenager put the comic down on his chest to eye the newcomers.

Jack seemed surprised by what he saw, and Finley, feeling safe, took off his scarf but kept the beanie around his head. Ben stuffed his hands in his hoodie's central pocket and seemed antsy. Finley could hear Jack thinking, Oh, she's like me. I thought having roommates would suck, but this might not be so bad. Maybe they'll be more long-term than the last ones.

"I'm Sasha," Fin introduced, and held out his hand, walking over to the teenager on one of the lower bunks. "This is Charlie."

"Hey," Ben waved as Jack reached for Finley's hand.

There were a few things he knew about Jack the moment that their hands met. One, was that Jack was struggling to contain his excitement at meeting another trans person through the church, having never met one aside from himself at First Advent and also having made the not entirely incorrect assumption that Finley was one such person. Two, was that this observation had immediately put Jack at ease, and Finley did his best to convey feelings of calm and certainty through his hand-shake. Fin's tawny, mellow-brown and black-nailed hand enclosed around Jack's paler olive-yellow one and read his thoughts and emotions as plainly as a flashing billboard. Jack didn't like being touched, an aversion hammered into him from years of sexual abuse at the hands of a foster family, but he was being brave because he admired Sasha's - Finley's - forthrightness.

Fin withdrew his hand and respected Jack's space after a moment's hesitation. "I guess we're your roomies for now," Finley explained, and looked to Demetrius for reference.

Demetrius smiled even wider at their interaction, likely knowing how shy Jack normally was. "I'm sure you'll get along. Dinner's at five and come find me if you need anything. I'll be in the office at the end of the hall."

"Okay," said Ben, and he waved to Demetrius as the volunteer left the room and closed the door behind him.

Fin glanced over to Jack, who had already returned to his manga even as Jack's thoughts spun in circles over what having a roommate meant for a lack of privacy. Jack was worried about changing in front of them, being judged or observed, worried about unwanted touches or unwanted eyes. "Hey," Fin spoke up, getting Jack's attention. Jack's eyes, a vibrant green, peered over the edge of his comic to Finley's. Fin cleared his throat and said, "This is just as weird for us, believe me. I've never had a roomie before. But, do you mind if I ask some questions about this place? It's . . . Really weird."

Jack put down the comic and sat a little more upright in his place. "Weird how?" He intoned. His voice was deeper than Finley's, and Fin felt a little embarrassed that he'd tried to disguise his voice earlier at all.

He cleared his throat again. "Um, it says 'Christ' and has a cross out front. So it's a church, right? But like, what do they teach? Believe? Do?"

Jack made a noise of understanding. "I might be the wrong one to ask, I don't go to every sermon," he explained after a moment of hesitation. "They're okay with queer kids, if that's what you're wondering," he added.

"I figured that," Fin said, and sat down on the bottom bunk next to Jack while Ben sat in the bed opposite them and watched their conversation. "But like, what's with the big charity? They want us to hand out flyers or anything?"

"No, not really. I mean, you can help them with handouts if you want to, but they haven't asked me to do anything like that," Jack answered, finding the words a little easier now despite Finley's proximity. Fin brought his legs together underneath him and adjusted his skirt out of a need to do something with his hands as Jack went on, "Mostly I just help out with the cooking and cleaning here and there and keep to myself. I talk to the other kids sometimes. A lot of them come and go. They can't handle sober living. I get it. I used to be like that."

"Demetrius mentioned that," said Ben, who was leaning his chin on his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. Jack turned to him as if startled to note his presence. Fin knew at once that Jack wasn't so sure about Ben himself, or rather 'Charlie,' but that he respected Ben's presence for the sake of Finley's. He had noted that they had entered the room holding hands and didn't know what to make of it. "He also didn't say much else," Ben added, "and neither did Olivia."

"She creeps me out," Fin confided in Jack, who smiled at him.

"Yeah, she's got that thousand-yard stare," Jack admitted. "Not sure what the stick is that's up her ass, but Pastor Malcolm seems to be the one who wedged it up there. He's a little uptight too. You'll probably meet him soon enough. He likes to interview new arrivals."

Not if I can help it, Finley thought. He said aloud for the benefit of his disguise, "Who's Pastor Malcolm?"

"He's in charge of the church, handles the funding and everything," Jack answered, "but Liv's the one who handles the food drives, the volunteer stuff, the reach outs and the sleep-ins. There's a sleep-in tonight, actually. I was just going to stay in my room though. You're welcome to hang out with me."

"Sleep-in?" Fin feigned ignorance and prompted Jack to continue.

Jack rolled his eyes. "It's where churchgoers come in for an evening potluck or whatever, and then they and their families camp out in the main room and listen to Pastor Malcolm drone on about Jesus or whatever kick he's on lately. Lately it's been the story of the Prodigal Son." Ben and Fin couldn't help but look at each other as Jack said this, but Jack was staring at the ceiling oblivious to their looks and went on with his ramble: "Something about the latter days of the world, and the prodigal son returning home. I think. I barely paid attention to the last sermon, sorry. Anything with God or Jesus in it tends to go in my right ear and out the left."

"I feel you," Fin admitted. "I was raised Catholic with my Tía and I feel like I've heard enough God-shit to last several lifetimes." It wasn't the entire truth, as he'd lived under his father's household for most of his formative years, but it was part of the truth and Finley felt that was enough to tell a convincing lie.

"Yeah," Jack chuckled, and then went silent and stared at his hands for a moment. "It's good to have a . . . Consistent place, though, you know?" He added quietly. "I haven't had that in a while."

Fin scanned the surface of Jack's thoughts with his mind's eye and realized suddenly that Jack had been homeless for the entire summer and fall of that year, up until a few weeks ago when he'd been directed to the First Advent Church of Christ by Demetrius himself, who volunteered at different shelters in the city from time to time. Fin made a mental note to make sure Demetrius and Jack survived whatever was going down with the church. Hopefully not the end of the world, he couldn't help but think. They didn't deserve to be caught up in Pastor Malcolm's shenanigans.

"Should we check out this sleep-in thing?" Finley suggested to Jack, gaging his reaction.

Jack took a moment to think about it. "Maybe after dinner we can check it out. I might duck out early, though, if that's alright. I'm really not a fan of the sermons."

"Sounds good," Fin agreed easily enough, and felt relieved inwardly that they wouldn't be totally on their own, waiting for Pastor Malcolm to discover them. The sleep-in seemed like a suitable time to snoop around the church and hide in plain sight, and also escape if they needed to since there would be more people to lose themselves in. "Hey, out of curiosity, does Olivia sort of . . . Rub you the wrong way?" He wondered how much of Olivia's bigotry was worn on her sleeve or buried deep.

"She's always been nice, but she's pretty much ignored me," Jack shrugged, and looked back to his manga as if to indicate that this attempt at conversation was over. I don't like her, but she scares me, Jack's thoughts indicated, followed by a mental image of Olivia cornering him one day and suggesting he 'watch' himself around any of the girls and Jack feeling alone, betrayed, and confused. Olivia made Jack feel cold. It made Finley's earlier observation of Olivia feel more valid, and also made him feel less bad for trying to dismantle the church from within. If he could find a way to scare Olivia away, well, that would just be a neat bonus.

 Ben began to become more anxious as time wore on, and since there wasn't any privacy between them Finley couldn't exactly verbally reassure him that everything was fine. He hadn't felt Pastor Malcolm's presence and was grateful for it. If the pastor were gone for the day, all the better. He knew that the man would show for the event if only to deliver a sermon.

Finley didn't have to wonder what such a man would sermonize, because he got to see it later. Eventually Ben figured out that he could just write up text on his phone and delete it if he wanted to ask Finley something. His biggest concern was, 'how long are we staying?' which was a valid one. Fin shrugged in response to indicate he didn't know. 

As Ben was typing out another question, Jack called out, "You don't have to be so secretive, you know. If you want privacy to talk or whatever, I can just put in my headphones and crank up the volume."

It was a generous offer, and Finley was grateful Jack had suggested it first. "You wouldn't mind?" said Fin.

Jack's response was to pull out his headphones from his pants pocket and jab them in his ears, quickly finding loud music that Fin could only catch a hint of from across the room.

"You don't have to type things out, you can just think them and I'll pick them up," Fin said quietly as soon as Jack wasn't listening.

Ben blinked, and it was clear this had never occurred to him. In Finley's experience most people were highly uncomfortable once they found out about his abilities, and tried to guard their worst thoughts from his perception in futility. It was not a comfort that most people were so riddled with shame and guilt for thinking bad thoughts. It rubbed off on Finley who didn't have room for his own thoughts in the mire of everyone else's. He'd chosen to live with two people who weren't like everyone else, in terms of their thinking, and generally voiced what was on their minds.

Ben was also unlike everyone else. His reflex wasn't panic at contemplating this in further detail. Instead, Finley picked up on his thoughts, which seemed to be what Benedict was expecting. Wouldn't knowing what everyone was thinking drive you crazy? Was what Ben wondered.

Fin choked back a bitter laugh that threatened to bubble out of him. "Who said I'm sane?" He shot back. "We're all screwed up, my whole family. It's like mental problems are our only inheritance." As he spoke, he realized these were not the words to reassure Benedict, but he couldn't stop himself. 

Do you always know what I'm thinking? Ben wondered at him.

Finley rolled his eyes. "I'd rather you just say it, but yeah. When I'm paying attention, anyway. I try not to 'listen in,' so to speak, all the time," he corrected with finger quotes. "I consider it rude. We can talk about the nuances of what people think versus what they say some other day," Finley decided for them, and added, "suffice it to simply say that very few people are really honest with themselves, and that's not necessarily always good thing."

"Okay," Ben agreed aloud easily. "So we're going to this sleep-in thing? And then leaving?"

"We'll leave during," Fin said, "it'll be easy to get lost in the crowd of people, especially since no one recognizes us. But we'll first need to explore a little. I want to see if I can find the door to the lower level."

"I don't think this place has a basement," Ben said dubiously, and glanced nervously at Jack to see if he overheard them. The teen said nothing, and his thoughts were clear of suspicion. Jack thought they were having a lovers' quarrel, and it was just as well, as his music was more interesting to him than their drama. Finley was profoundly grateful for teenage indifference, in that moment.

"It does," Fin said, "or my name's not Sasha."

"But it's not," Ben frowned.

Finley rolled his eyes. "It's an American idiom—just trust me. There's a lot of people's thoughts here that aren't accounted for. I can feel it, them, somewhere down below. Beneath the earth. Under my feet. Maybe the other people here don't know, or they're being kept in the dark. I doubt Demetrius knows, or Jack. And I don't want to get them involved if we could avoid it. We gotta ditch him."

"They seem like nice people," Ben observed.

"They are nice people, just like you," Fin said earnestly, "and you guys don't deserve to be caught up in my family's bullshit but here we are. As soon as people start arriving, we'll start snooping, and then we'll leave whenever you feel uncomfortable. Do we have a deal?"

"Sounds good," Benedict agreed and adjusted his hoodie around his head, pulling the hood tighter over his fixed wig. "What about Jack?" He looked over at the brunette teenager with earbuds, humming to loud metal music, just a few feet away from them.

Finley didn't know what to do about Jack, but he didn't want to be that honest with Ben just yet. If it had been his sister there with him he might have said the truth, but what people didn't know about Finley's lack of planning didn't hurt them. He had walked into an FBI building with only his sister's directions and his ability to detect thoughts to guide him and had made it out (mostly) without suspicion and even took copies of classified files with him. This time, his sister hadn't even bothered to give him direction beyond the disguises and told him, 'you can do this.'

She trusted him to get them out of this alive, no matter what. Finley couldn't let her down.

"We can't worry about Jack," Fin told Ben as honestly as he could manage. "We'll figure out what to do once the sleep-in starts. It's best not to plan too far ahead, because things usually get fucked once you do that."

". . . All this because I spilled coffee on one of my favorite musicians," Ben said a little reluctantly, but there was a bright half-smile on his face that belied his amusement with his incredible circumstance.

Finley smiled with him, but it felt brittle on his face. He was glad Ben was there to stay positive for the both of them, because they certainly didn't need Fin's usual negativity with them. Fin at least had the consolation that he would definitely be able to sense if the Pastor was in the building - he had blocked out the mental noise, but Pastor Malcolm was unmistakable even in a crowd of people. Like Ramiel, his mental frequency stood out and above everyone around him thunderously. Ramiel's white noise of a mind had drowned out the entire airport full of people - Finley had barely sensed Aidan beside him with Pastor Mal in the room.

Finley indicated to Jack that he could take his headphones out, and Jack popped one out of his ears and regarded them curiously. "Hey, Sasha. Everything alright?" He asked.

"Yeah," Fin said dismissively. "When does the sermon start?" He asked Jack in return, changing the conversation so that Jack wouldn't have the opportunity to be too curious about them. It would be better if they could find a way to ditch Jack entirely during the sleep-in and keep the kid out of their shenanigans.

"Maybe an hour from now?" Jack expressed this more as a question since he wasn't sure and looked down at his phone. "Yeah, about an hour," he confirmed after looking at the time. "We can go check out the kitchen and see if dinner's ready before it starts, might be hard to find anything but casserole after people start showing up," Jack offered, and pulled the other headphone out of his ear, pausing his music.

RJ and her cosmic fucking timing, Finley thought fondly of his sister, who was always right and just on time in a roundabout way that couldn't be denied. "Sure," Finley offered, trying to remind himself that he was Sasha, at least for now. "Charlie?" He added, looking to Ben.

Benedict was startled to hear his own fake name and nodded, seeming suddenly nervous. 

Finley remembered details from his childhood at Mara's that he had nearly forgotten, as Jack led them through the church's winding halls and toward a neat and industrial-sized kitchen that bustled with activity from at least four different people preparing various meals. No one had the time to talk to them, but most of them greeted Jack by name fondly and returned their attention to their tasks, their focuses entirely on their work. Upon a cursory scan of their thoughts, one was repressing mild panic at the workload before the sleep-in, and hoped they'd have enough food to go around. Another was certain they'd have too much and was wishing they were home with their partner. One was listening to music as she worked, her mind playing out images like a music video, and the fourth was completely intent on chopping celery.

"People started arriving," the celery-chopper reported. "Might want to avoid the main hall," he told Jack without looking away from his knife.

"Actually we're headed that way," said Jack. "Me and the newbies."

He nodded, still not looking away, and started humming under his breath.

"We'll come back later," Jack decided for them, and led the way out of the kitchen toward the main atrium. There was a nervousness in him that welled up at the sound of all the people from the main hall as they approached. 

Finley stopped Jack with a hand on his shoulder for a moment and felt the need to tell him, "You don't have to go with us if you don't want to. It sounds like a lot of people." And indeed, Finley could sense at the edge of his mental barrier an oceanic swell of thoughts and minds on his periphery that he knew would overwhelm him if he let it. He focused on Jack and Ben, since he couldn't really even think straight for himself with such a distraction.

The nervousness that Jack and Ben were feeling soon became his own, and he knew he had to ameliorate it without going into their minds to do so. He couldn't just fix people the way he wanted them to be. Even though I know it would be easy, he internally lamented. "Look," Fin said when Jack gave him a questioning look, "Church is lame anyway. I just want to see for myself what this place is about. What sort of person runs it." Even though I already know and want nothing to do with him, he silently added. But whatever gets Jack to leave us alone the fastest.

"You have a point," Jack agreed a little reluctantly. "I guess I've never paid attention because I just tune out religious talk instinctively. But maybe you have a good idea. I've never really given him a listen. Maybe I should. I admit I'd rather be back in my room reading, but . . . I've never been to the other events. I think I'd like to go to this one. Thanks, Sasha, for going with me," he said with a smile and started heading into the main atrium.

Fuck me, Finley thought, he'd gone and done it - and it had the opposite effect. Jack felt better, and more confident, and now was determined not to leave them alone.

Ben gave him a worried look and followed Jack, with Finley not far behind.

Ahead of them, Finley could sense a charge beneath the tidal swell of emotions and minds - an electrical pulse that was unmistakably Pastor Malcolm's tenor. Finley schooled his features into a calm mask and thought of a fortress. Brick by brick he laid it out, the foundation layer by layer, walling himself inside against the thoughts and impulses of others.

Underneath it all, there he was - he could finally feel himself - and Fin knew deep down that he was terrified. It was a sobering notion, but he could acknowledge that he felt like a child inside still worried about what his father would do when he came home. Next to it was a rage that Finley had harbored from such an early age directed at the world around him, angry at every injustice and abuse he saw now that he had the power to fight back. He didn't take the punches anymore and hide.

He didn't know what Pastor Malcolm was, but Finley vowed he'd find a way to make him pay for what he'd done to Fin's family. Ravaras were many things - and sometimes terrible, sometimes hilarious, sometimes downright tenacious depending on whom you spoke to - but Ravaras kept their promises.

Finley's priority, however, was to keep Ben - and peripherally Jack - safe and away from the Pastor. Why RJ had sent them to the lion's den was beyond Finley, but he had to believe that she knew what she was doing. Perhaps like Daniel before him it would be a test of faith - to find the fourth man in the fire - and trust her not to let him get burned, the way she apparently trusted him. She had let him down before during dark moments, but never when it truly mattered. It was passed the time when he should start trusting his sister. Even Ben believes in her more than I do, Finley thought ruefully.

"Heaven," came a voice from inside the church that Finley knew, thanks to the chill running up his spine, was Pastor Malcolm's. As they entered after a small crowd of people, pressing the three of them closer together until they could feel each other's body heat, they were shuffled into a standing area in the back because all the seats were taken in the main area and the back of the main chapel had been cleared of chairs to make room for people's sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets. Fin could see the Pastor at the pulpit on a raised dais, holding up one of hands to usher the room into silence.

Gradually, people obeyed. "Heaven," he repeated, "is not a place, but a point of view. A way of living. Heaven is a state of being and mind. It is the purity of God's love on earth made manifest. Heaven is here amongst us, right now, dwelling in each of our heart's. When you find yourself in heaven, rejoice - the kingdom of God is upon you! God has wrapped you in His warm embrace and lifted you up."

Fin noticed Jack started becoming more uncomfortable again. "Wait, I thought heaven was where the big beardy-guy lives who likes to watch us all jerk off," he whispered to the teenager, making Jack unexpectedly giggle and then stifle the giggle with his own hand over his mouth. Jack shushed him, but Fin smiled. 

"Hell," Pastor Mal began, and Fin could swear that his eyes locked onto Finley and Ben from the pulpit, even though they were in disguise, "is also a matter of perspective. We've all been in Hell before, and seen the poor souls on the streets of our city still trapped in it. We're escapees of Hell ourselves, trying to uplift our siblings from it. Here, we've made it our mission to save those who have become damned and condemned far from the reach of God's love." He paused for a moment, and utter silence engulfed the church. Aside from Finley and perhaps Ben and Jack, the entire audience was at rapt attention. Finley had to repress the little voice that sounded like RJ in his head, telling him to mock the situation. For a guy that Ramiel called Asmodeus, he sure loves to fucking talk about God, Fin thought.

"I, too, escaped from Hell," Pastor Malcolm said this not as if it was a grand confession but a mere aside. "In truth, sometimes, I still find myself there. But I'll tell you one thing, my friends - I do not remain long. All you have to do when you find yourself trapped in Hell, is reach out and touch that divine spark given to you. Touch that within yourself, and—"

Finley tuned the rest out because all he had heard was 'touch yourself' and that particular Divinyls song he'd heard as a kid came to his head, and all he could blurt out - quietly so as not within earshot of anyone but Jack and Ben, "Did he seriously just tell us to go touch ourselves?"

Jack quirked up a wry grin that he actively fought to suppress. "I think he did," said Ben from next to them, who just looked confused by the sermon in general. "What god is he talking about?" Ben thought to ask in an unsure whisper.

It had never occurred to Finley until that moment, but he picked up on Ben's surface thoughts that reflected genuine ignorance in light of the many, many gods and saint-like figures of his childhood religious experiences due to his father's devout faith. Ben's mind was a web-like maze of interconnected memories and experiences that he associated with to relate to the world - much like many others, he was not extraordinary in that regard - but it was the person that had become the culmination of these experiences that was unique. 

It hit Finley suddenly that he had only ever heard his sister speak of multiple 'gods' when she talked about faith, in her adamant refusal that everyone was wrong around her about everything. Fin still considered when Ramiel might appear again, if ever, and what the man calling himself that might really be. If angels existed (and they still didn't, as Ramiel hadn't introduced himself as such), or living beings powerful enough to predict the future, or even in Finley's case - to perceive and manipulate the thoughts and behaviors of others - who is to say Ben or RJ's 'gods' did not exist as well?

It had never sat well with Finley, that Burns' theory didn't encompass the idea that people such as him had, perhaps, always existed. They were not 'new' in any sense of the regard. They were just more free before, because people didn't believe they existed.

"A god really concerned with watching us jerk off," Finley answered Ben, still keeping his voice at a whisper. Thankfully, the pastor had resumed the sermon so the room was not totally silent.

Benedict, unfortunately or fortunately depending on where you stood on the matter, took this literally. "I guess there's a god for everything," he concluded mildly.

Finley had to cover his mouth to avoid laughing but couldn't hide his smile. His smile fell as he abruptly became aware of the time by looking at a clock on the wall and felt the need to get away from Pastor Malcolm as fast as humanly possible. "I need to find the restroom," he told Jack, with the first excuse he could think of. It was lame, but it would have to do. "Where is it?"

"Out that hall, take a left, and it's the fourth door on the right," Jack told him quickly, pointing to an exit on the other side of the hall they'd come from.

Fin grabbed Ben's hand and wandered off, and Jack didn't follow them, completely without suspicion. Finley knew this would only buy them a few minutes at most before Jack likely came looking for them, but it was better than the alternative. "Come on," he murmured to Benedict under his breath. Ben let himself be led mutely and without protest.

Once they were out of the doors, and there wasn't anyone outside to see them, Fin stretched his senses a bit. He felt the massive tide of emotions and thoughts from inside the chapel, but carefully he swept that aside and looked for the darker strains of feeling from beneath the ground. He took a right instead of a left once he was outside and tried a few unlocked doors down the end of the hall that looked like they might lead somewhere suspicious.

"Try to find the basement door," Finley instructed the confused Ben, who nodded and started to do the same thing, running down the hall to try other doors. Most of them led to empty activity rooms or were storage closets, but there was one locked door in particular that seemed louder to Finley - at least, louder in the sense that whatever was beneath them seemed more close by, and larger in volume. He couldn't get a sense of physical spaces without seeing them the way his sister could, but somewhere behind that door and down below it were a series of terrified people that could only think or pray in images and were wrapped in the despair of long isolation. He knew that feeling from his time in the room downstairs, when he used to live with his dad.

The door was locked but Finley had a few hair pins that RJ had thought to stick in his wig - unfortunately, he wasn't the world's most experienced lock-pick and hadn't successfully picked a lock in many a year. He did his best to open it but it was to no avail. Ben tapped his foot impatiently.

He felt Jack approach before he heard it and put the pins away back into his fake hair. Jack wasn't fooled, however, and suspected they were looking for something of value to steal and run away with. He felt scared, and betrayed by them, but wanted to believe they'd just gotten lost on the way to the bathroom. "Hey, did you get lost?" Jack wondered hopefully.

Finley had two options that he could ascertain from this point. One is that he could lie and say yes, and Jack would remain suspicious of them, and it would make running away harder. Two was the truth, and possibly they could get out and away from Pastor Malcolm before the man became aware of their presence. Fin took the second option since he had no desire to remain in the church longer than necessary. 

"This is the basement door," Fin pointed.

Jack frowned. "I didn't know there was a basement. Why are you trying to get into the basement?"

Finley made sure to look Jack in the eyes and said, "We're not thieves. We're undercover. And there are people down there that are trapped that we need to get out. This place isn't what you think it is."

"What?" Jack was immediately thrown off and didn't believe them. He shook his head. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but that's not how you pick a lock anyway, so let me help you," he offered instead, which surprised Fin a bit. Finley pulled out his bobby pins and handed them to Jack, who re-bent them with practiced fingers and knelt down to the lock level. "I'll help you look around because I think you're wrong, but if you really are undercover, you're bad at it for telling me about it," Jack criticized as he went to work.

"There's a lot more going on here than you realize," Finley promised him, just as the lock went 'click. "Wow, you're good," he complimented.

Jack flushed a little bit. "Yeah, well, I used to live on the street and you pick up things when you're desperate. Come on, before someone sees us." He opened the door and gestured for Fin and Ben to go inside. It led down a pitch-dark hallway with rickety wooden steps that had clearly been installed recently.

Finley led the way down and pulled out a small, key-chain sized flashlight from his jacket pocket that RJ had thoughtfully put in there earlier. It was only useful until Jack found the light-switch at the bottom of the wooden basement stairs. There was only a hall, lined with heavy metal doors on each side that had a small slot in the base of them for moving items through the door without opening it, and a more unassuming wooden door at the end of the hall. Everything was eerily quiet.

"What is this?" Jack murmured, and approached one of the doors, trying to open it. It was locked, as was every single one of the doors they tried. 

Finley stretched out his mind and flinched back, pulling back into himself as the very air itself seemed permeated with despair and desperation. Jack looked into the slot of one of the doors as he opened it with hesitating hands and he suddenly flinched back, shocked, but didn't make a noise and instead pulled his hand over his mouth. "Oh fuck," he muttered. "We need to get out of here," he hissed into the silence, alarmed.

Fin glanced inside and saw an emaciated form lying down on the ground, either dead or unconscious, he couldn't say at a glance. It was too dark down there, and there were too many other people's thoughts clouding his perceptions. He built up the wall again with each breath, brick by brick, and walled himself inside his own mind away from others.

"Can you unlock any of these?" Fin wondered. He put a hand on Jack's shoulder, feeling the teen's terror at the situation suddenly erupt into panic.

"I-I-I don't know, I've never - these have bolts and - we have to get out of here!" He started backing away to the stairs.

Fin followed him and gestured for Ben to do the same. They ran up the steps and Finley felt instantly better, immediately followed by a wave of guilt for not being able to help the people trapped in the church's basement. Maybe if they could involve the authorities peripherally . . . Or somehow get more time, or find the keys and sneak them out . . .

"Holy shit!" Jack hissed as they got back upstairs and shut the door behind them. There was no one in the hall to see them, thankfully. "Holy fuck, what was that?" Jack rambled and grabbed his head in his hands, pulling at his short curly hair. He knelt until he was on his haunches and crouched, almost in a fetal position.

"That's what we came to investigate," Finley revealed. He rounded Jack so that the teenager was facing him and forced to look at him and said, "Look, I didn't mean to get you involved in this, but you are now. And that means you know. We have to get out of here to get help for those people. You have a choice - you can stay, or you can leave with us and drop all this Heaven's Gate bullshit behind. What'll it be?"

"I-I-I can't leave, Demetrius and Sam and — there's too many people, they don't know about this! They can't know. They would do something if they knew about this, and it's right beneath their noses," Jack realized aloud as he spoke his thoughts. "I can't just leave them. I have to stay and get them out of here too. You two - you two can go and get the police."

"It'll be dangerous if you stay," Finley warned, worried about Jack's safety now but wanted to respect his choice. "Pastor Malcolm isn't . . . He isn't normal. Don't fuck with him, just run away if he approaches you, okay?"

"Okay," Jack nodded, and stood upright from his bent position. "You'll want to go out the back," he pointed down the hall. "Just follow the exit signs. I should get back to my room and . . . Fuck, I don't know what I'll do but I have to do something," he rambled.

"Stay safe," Finley cautioned and headed down the hall with Ben, leaving Jack behind. It was for the best, and he felt that as long as Jack avoided the Pastor and Olivia at all costs, he'd be okay - at least until they could figure out what to do about all this fucked up nonsense.

Naturally, Olivia was waiting for them by the exit. Benedict saw her blond form in her blue dress and immediately grabbed Finley's arm to pull him in the opposite direction, but Olivia called out, "I wouldn't run if I were you," and pulled out - of all the ostentatious nonsense - a pistol with a silencer attached to the barrel of it. Ben and Finley stopped and held up their hands simultaneously. Ben's began to panic but he remained silent on the outside, while Finley' internally raged. "I won't aim for anywhere vital. Just the painful spots, I promise," she added viciously as she approached them, step by step.

"Fuck you," Finley decided and before he could stretch his own thoughts out to hers, and touch his mind to her turbulent one, something struck him in the back of the head that sent him to the ground reeling and his vision spinning.

The last thing he saw was Pastor Malcolm's shadow looming over him as the man said, "Welcome back, Mr. Ravara. We've been expecting you."