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Trish rolls her eyes as she walks past a brightly lit diner, but the sight of a familiar trilby and a shock of bright red hair has her backtracking.
She laughs at the sign on the door reading, “Come in, We’re Open!” and waltzes on in, sliding herself in the opposite side of a booth occupied by a certain Irish priest.
“O’Leary! Fancy seeing you here, Father.” Trish greets the man whom she spotted slumped over with his head in his hands.
“What? Oh, Trish… Hello...” He barely looks up from where he's staring into the dark, half gone depths of his coffee.
“Hello. I spied ya when I was walking by and realized that you looked like someone who was in need of some company. What’s ailing ya, Father?” Trish leans back in the booth, one arm hanging over the back as she looks at O’Leary curiously, trying to meet his eyes but finding that he won’t look at her.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just tired after another long day of serving the masses and all that. Saving souls is hard work, you know.” O’Leary looks up at her and Trish can see how worn he is. The spark in his eyes is gone and he looks even more beaten down than the last time they crossed paths.
“Don’t you get tired of it? The pretending?” She asks as she waves a waitress over to order her own coffee. She won’t drink it, but the warmth against her hands is always nice.
“I don’t know what you mean…”
“I’m talking about the holy man act, Father . Me and the rest of this shit city know you don’t actually believe.” Trish narrows her eyes at him, having to remind herself to loosen her grip so she doesn’t shatter the porcelain clutched in her hands
“I have plenty of faith. As much faith as a man in my position can have.” O’Leary twists the rosary that hangs from his wrist between his fingers like its mere presence is proof enough of his devotion.
“And just what position is that, Father?”
“Somewhere that’s hard to get out of. I have no church and a dwindling flock...I stand outside of Pillbox all day and night in an attempt to help the hurt and the destitute of Los Santos, but all they do is push me away...or lie...or tell me what they think I want to hear. How am I supposed to help a city that’s built on sin?” O’Leary’s hands clenched in front of him, his eyes darting up for the barest of moments like he’s pleading with the Lord Himself for the answers.
“You’re not,” Trish says matter-of-factly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I already know you’re not the most virtuous of men, Father. You drink, you smoke, you take the Lord’s name in vain, and I know there has to be days where you want to just say damn it all and let loose, beat everyone who treads on you down with righteous fury. Don’t ya ever just want to say "fuck the Maker" and get on somewhere?”
"No. No. That's not what I want at all. I want to help people."
"Come off it, Father. You might be able to lie to yourself but you can't lie to me. And lyin's a sin too ya know." Trish’s face is curled into a smirk, but the humor is almost too dark even for her.
“I’m not lying… I just don’t know where my path is leading me…” He says the words slowly like they’re something painful to him.
“Sounds to me like you need a new path. You might just not be cut out for the preaching life. Ever stop to think that maybe you were meant for something bigger than what ya think?” Trish tilts her head and gives him a full-on grin, showing off teeth that are far too sharp.
O’Leary’s oblivious to anything she’s hinting at and sighs again, glancing longingly out the window into the night. “That’s dreamer talk. I have an obligation… I can’t just leave it all behind.”
“Who says you can’t? There’s no one in this city holding you back. If there was, you wouldn’t be outside that hospital at all hours. If you had someone waiting for you at home, you wouldn’t be wallowing in your misery in a place like this.” Trish gestures to the diner around them, to the peeling wallpaper and the steady stream of drunks and druggies and creatures of the night coming and going.
O’Leary has the nerve to look shocked, his head whipping around to look at her aghast. “Now, I don’t know where you’re getting any of this from…”
“I have eyes and a brain . I don’t hear you telling me I’m wrong. You’re an open book ya know.” Trish leans across the table and looks him in the eye, the finger she points at him almost close enough to touch. “I like you and I’m trying to offer you a way out. I’m trying to say that God isn’t real and if he is, then he doesn’t give a shit about you or me. We’re not even pawns in his scheme, just bits of debris floating and lost.”
O’Leary is pressed back into the seat, looking down at her finger like it’s a snake. “I don’t know how you can say that…”
“You know damn well how! Your lord ain’t real, but do you know what is? Family.” Trish sits back a scowl on her face. “I’m offering you a family, O’Leary. People who care about you so you’re not stuck wandering the city on your own.”
O’Leary squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back, sucking in a sharp breath. “I don’t know why.”
“Because I care. Even if all I do is fuck with you, you’re still willing to listen when I talk. I don’t want to see bad things happen to you...and it’s starting to sound like things in this city are just going to keep getting worse and worse.” Trish’s fingers itch and she reaches for her lighter, wanting a smoke more than anything right now. “Which isn’t good for loners like you.”
“I’m not alone.”
“Sure you’re not... Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Trish is quickly on her feet, the need to move getting to be too strong to ignore.
She drops the cash for their coffees on the table and just keeps going, watching out of the corner of her eye to make sure that the priest is following. He is. Which is only a little surprising.
When they make out into the darkened streets of LS, Trish is immediately hovering close to O’Leary’s side, watching anyone else who passes by them warily. The area they’re in is fairly neutral, but that doesn’t mean completely safe. Doesn’t mean that some idiot won’t try to go after O’Leary because of his so-called profession or because he’s an easy target.
She lights up a cigarette when she gets the chance and the taste on her tongue eases her nerves just a bit.
Trish scowls as a cloud of smoke leaves her lungs. “As I was saying, this city is full of filth and who knows how much longer you’re going to be able to get away with not having some fucking asshole sink their teeth in your neck.”
“I’ve managed well enough and, not to be too blunt, but it’s sounding like you’re about to do the same.”
“No! No. That’s not what this is at all. I’m giving you a choice, O’Leary.”
“A choice of whether or not I should hand myself over to the Devil. Have you maybe considered finding yourself on a different path?”
“The Devil got his hold on me long ago. Actually runs in the family, you see. Just like how none of us can drive.” Trish laughs to herself, a joke only she gets as the sound bounces in the silence.
“Ah. So the chance for faith was never there. I...understand that.” O’Leary shakes his head and Trish can see him clutching at his rosary again.
“I think you have about as much faith as I do, which isn’t even enough to spark a furnace.” Trish laughs, taking another drag off of her cigarette and lighting her face in the glow.
“I have faith, but it does seem like it needs to be directed somewhere else.”
“That’s enough of an answer for me.”
~~~~~~~~~
The ride to the Hive Dive went by quicker than Trish thought and she was soon dragging O’Leary up the steps of Molly’s house.
“Hello, darlin’, you miss me much?” Trish calls after she gets the door unlocked.
“Oh. Every moment. Not like I didn’t see you a few hours ago.” Molly rolls her eyes but lets Trish pull her down into a quick kiss in the doorway.
“And every hour I was away, I spent thinking about coming back to you.”
Molly crosses her arms when Trish pulls away, pointedly looking out the door behind her. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. You’re sweet-talking me and I’m listening, but I also see that you brought a stray home.”
“A stray? You’d really say something like that about O’Leary here?”
“Oh? Is that who that is? Well, get him inside. I can’t exactly see him in the dark.” Molly steps back and ushers them both inside, rolling her eyes again at Trish.
~~~~~~~~~~~
They’re scattered around the kitchen, O’Leary holding another cup of coffee as he leans against the cabinets next to the stove.
"Do you mind, darlin'?" Trish asks as she loosely wraps her fingers around Molly's wrists.
She carefully lifts one to her mouth to press the gentlest of kisses against the delicate skin before doing the same to the other, looking up at Molly with eyes filled with too many emotions to name. The motions are identical, but it's glaringly obvious that each spot she presses her lips to means something.
There's an intricate tattoo decorating Molly's left wrist, the beautiful black lines cutting through the otherwise unmarked flesh. Her right side is a completely different story. Layers upon layers of raised, pink scar tissue decorate the thin skin, showing off just how many times it's been broken by the exact set of teeth lovingly grazing it now.
An amused sigh leaves Molly’s lips as she smiles down at Trish, still not tired of this ritual, no matter how often Trish does it. “Go ahead. Take what you need.”
“Thanks, love,” Trish murmurs before her lips part and her teeth sink into Molly, piercing her skin as easily as biting into an apple.
From out of the corner of her eye, Trish can see O’Leary shifting uncomfortably by the stove, unsure what to do with himself as she snacks. After a few long, satisfying swallows Trish pulls her teeth from Molly’s wrist. She presses another soft kiss there before looking up and wiping her mouth.
“Feel better now?”
“You know you always hit the spot, darlin,” Trish teases with a little wink. “Just needed a little top off to make sure I didn’t drain the poor Father over there.”
“Oh, is that what this is all about?”
“Yeah. I figured I’d make the family a little bigger. You and me and T have been doing okay on our own, but who knows how much longer out friend O’Leary would last out there.” Trish actually looks a little bashful now. The blood in her system painting her the tips of her ears red. “Sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. You should have seen him out there like a lost pup.”
“Hey. It’s okay. I’m just happy you’re telling me now so I can help out any way I can.”
“Would you help me get the spare room ready? And thaw out those blood packs that have been in the freezer?”
“You got it. The guest room should be set up. I know it hasn’t been touched since the last time T stayed the night.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you, darlin’.” Trish stands on her toes and kisses Molly again before going back to O’Leary.
“How are you feeling, Father?”
“Nervous.”
“That’s normal. You’ll be okay. I promise.” She does her best to give him a reassuring grin.
O’Leary takes a deep breath and sets his now cold cup of coffee on the counter. “Trish, I don’t know if I want to go through with this.”
“Then you don’t have to. I’m not going to force you into anything. I’m dead, not heartless.” Trish rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.
“I’m sorry for this, Trish.”
“Don’t. Don’t be. I still want you to be a part of our family, even if you don’t want to be turned. I’ve had a coven of humans for this long, not really changing anything there.” She snorts, knowing that Ray and Molly certainly won’t mind another human hanging around.
It’s obvious O’Leary doesn’t believe her, though. “Really? With nothing in return?”
“Really. Really. No stipulations. You need to have somewhere safe to stay, so it might as well be here.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that the guest room is always open to you. Just call if you need somewhere to stay.”
“Thank you, Trish. It...means a lot.” She can see some of the tension leave the man before her and, when she really looks, his eyes seem so, so old.
“Now you’re making it seem like I’m soft. Can’t have that now, can we?”
“Oh, your secret’s safe with me. Besides, who am I going to tell? The Lord?”
Trish rolls her eyes and lights up a cigarette. “None of that talk in this house. Why don’t you stay with us for the night and I’ll ask Molly about taking you home when it’s light.”
“I do appreciate this, you know. You have a good heart, Trish Shields.”
“Nah. It’s as black as coal. Get to sleep.” Trish ways him off, pointing him down the hall. “Oh and, Father, just remember: if your lord ever closes his door, ours is always open.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Trish is leaning against the fridge, cigarette clenched between her teeth and lips pulled into a frown, when Molly walks back into the kitchen. Molly snorts to herself as she steps up to Trish. She plucks the cigarette from Trish's mouth and cups her cheeks in her hands, leaning down to give her small vampire a kiss.
Molly can feel the texture of Trish’s burns under her thumbs and she rubs against them soothingly as she does her best to kiss the worry away. The familiar taste of iron and smoke clings to her lips when Molly pulls away and rests her forehead against Trish’s. “Hey. Did you know that you’re beautiful inside and out and that you’re incredible and strong and have one of the biggest hearts that I know of? And that I love you?”
Trish won’t meet her eyes, the tips of her ears bright pink again. “Don’t. If you keep saying things like that, I might just start to believe ya, darlin’.”
“Well, then I guess I’m going to have to start saying it more because it’s the truth," Molly says those words with as much conviction as she can and presses a quick kiss to the tip of Trish’s nose.
“You’re too good to me, darlin’.” Trish says, shying away again.
Molly laughs. “Well, someone has to be and I like that it’s me. Means I get a certain cute girl all to myself.”